


Under the Elder Tree on Sodden Hill

by papervalentine



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, F/F, In the dark AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 65,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papervalentine/pseuds/papervalentine
Summary: Detective AU-  Detective Tissaia DeVries left her childhood town of Sodden Hill and didn't look back. But when two teenage girls go missing from her hometown it echoes of 20 years earlier when another girl had gone missing, opening up old wounds for Tissaia. She finds herself drawn back by the mystery and to support someone from her past who finds herself in the middle of it.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 175
Kudos: 133





	1. Stop for the Police

**Author's Note:**

> Do you have a Detective Witcher AU sized hole in your heart?
> 
> I really enjoyed The Witcher Netflix series but don't have a very established knowledge of the world to write a story based off the show. But I did recently watched a short-run British TV series call In the Dark starring Myanna Buring, originally based off of the novels In the Dark and Time of Death by Danny Brocklehurst and thought I could write a detective story instead. Because I do have very established knowledge of British crime dramas.
> 
> This story utilizes the first two episodes of the British TV show In the Dark, though many plot points have been removed or adjusted for my purposes and obviously The Witcher cast has been inserted into the story.
> 
> No beta so any mistakes are my own. I'll try to go in and fix as I go. Nothing helps you find a mistake like posting a chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, comment and kudos!

“Stop! Stop for the police!” Detective Inspector Tissaia DeVries shouted in between gasps for air, her Oxford boots thumping on the pavement underneath her. The sound echoed back to her against the red brick of the shops that she rushed passed them in pursuit of her unexpected quarry; Bethany Tibbs to be specific. DI DeVries had been out doing the breakfast run with Officer Orson when she spotted the woman and recognized her from a recent warrant. She’d had plenty of run-ins with Bethany before, having brought the woman in herself several times for selling, buying, or using a variety of narcotics and opiates.

She’d just stepped out of the corner shop with their trays of paper cups filled with piping hot coffee, the earthy aroma floating up pleasantly in the cool morning, when the detective caught sight of the familiar narrow nose, fidgeting dark eyes, and stringy sheet of brown hair and before Tissaia knew it she was calling out for the woman. But the fugitive took one look at her and the uniformed officer at her elbow holding the paper sack of croissants then took off like a spooked rabbit and like the diligent fox Tissaia gave chase. Regrettably she had to abandon the coffees, dropping the trays so the cups quickly gave up their contents to the sidewalk becoming a dismal puddle of brown and crumpled cardboard. They rounded to a smaller street, disrupting some meandering pigeons that fluttered away to the rooftops with indignant coos. Tissaia listened for the police constable behind her, hearing his slapping footsteps and also the angry rustled of a mishandled paper bag he was still encumbered with.

“Keep up Orson! And leave the damn croissants.” Tissaia hollered back to him.

“But ma’am!” He protested, alarmed at her suggestion.

“Orson!”

“Yes ma’am!” He heaved behind her and she could hear the crunch on the bag dropping to the sidewalk, though it could have easily been the sound of PC Orson’s heartbreaking.

Bethany led the huffing trio careening around another corner, their course narrowing further to a winding alleyway, and after the second bend it finally dead-ended into a brick wall. Tissaia nearly exclaimed ‘oh thank god for that’ in relief the impromptu cardio had ended and would have if she were any less composed. She put her hands on her hips as she caught her breath, her eyes tracking the criminal as she paced back and forth, wrung her hands, and muttered worriedly to herself. Tissaia tucked some errant strands of hair that had come loose from her usually tidy bun behind her ear and after a few more deep breaths began to chide her suspect, “You know how I hate to give chase Bethany. It only delays the inevitable and is a waste of my time.”

“Please let me go. Please I’m asking, right? Woman to woman, yeah?” She rambled, her words coming out in a desperate deluge. “Just one more chance, please. Please.”

“One more chance?” DI DeVries arched her brow. “You’ve been brought up on charges for purchasing with intent to sell two times, for selling six times, check fraud three times, once for child endangerment. You’ve had more lives than cats do.”

Her lecture turned sharper, “You know the thing that really pisses me off though? It’s that despite all these ill earned gains, you are still, still claiming benefits, which means coppers like me are paying for the privilege of chasing you around the bleeding streets.”

The detective moved forward readying to make her arrest when suddenly the woman lashed out. Her fist managed to connect with DI DeVries chin with a dull smack of skin and bone colliding. The blow made the coppery taste of blood bloom in her mouth, throwing Tissaia off kilter but not enough to let Bethany get by her. She caught the fleeing woman by the wrist and using her own momentum against her swung Bethany into some metal trash cans that clattered and tipped over their garbage. Fortunately Orson had the wherewithal to join in the action, pouncing on the woman and pulling the handcuffs off of his belt. Tissaia stood back a moment to get her bearings and wiped at her lip, a smear of crimson appearing on the back of her hand. “And now you can add assaulting an officer of the law to the list of offenses.”

Orson finished wrangling the thrashing woman and got the cuffs secured around her wrists. Tissaia helped him haul her up from the trash heap that she’d been tossed in. Still Bethany resisted as the pair dragged her along, starting in on the begging again, “Please, I just need one more chance. Please, please.”

“Enough blubbering, you’re not fooling anyone here. Save it for the court appearance.” Tissaia said peevishly and the convict begrudgingly relented, trudging along with them. On the trek back to the car, they came across the discarded bag of pastries in the middle of the sidewalk. Orson scurried ahead and crouched over the bag to peer inside. As he righted himself, the officer turned with an overly large grin, “They’re all right.”

Tissaia pursed her lips and brushed passed him, “Wonderful, Orson.”

-

Once back at the police station, Tissaia presented her detainee to the in-take desk. “Hullo, Stanley. I’ve got Bethany Tibbs picked up on an outstanding warrant with additional charge of assaulting an officer.”

“Got an early start, eh DeVries?” His droopy eyes swung up from his computer screen to inspect them.

“You know, the bird and the worm and all that.” She said offhand and he grunted in amusement, his stiff fingers plodding over the keyboard and peering through bifocals that rested precariously on the end of his nose as he typed.

Bethany kept her head bent down during the exchange, pouting and glaring through her hair at everything in sight. The older policeman took a moment to pull up the file and advised her of her right to silence, which she elected to utilize at present, leaving Tissaia to supply some of the answers. He gave Tissaia instructions to report to evidence so they could document her injury and she handed off the prisoner to a uniformed officer for further processing. The detective watched Bethany disappear into the holding area. It was regrettable to see a soul so lost in the system but Tissaia had established a strict code when it came to dealing with people on the job. No matter how sympathetic someone may seem, if they committed a crime she brought them in to let the courts decide their fate; leaving a criminal out on the street in a moment of empathy could only endanger the community at large. This served to garner her reputation on the force as a stickler, uncompromising, and at times frigid but also damn good at her job. In the middle of the thoughts Tissaia heard someone behind her distraughtly exclaim, “Coffee, Tissaia. You were supposed to bring back coffee.”

She turned around to be greeted by her partner DI Aadesh Vilgefortz, his dark brow twisted sadly to give him an exaggerated doleful expression. She replied sardonically, “Did you say coffee? I heard convict, my apologies.”

“You couldn’t let one slip by you for my sake?” He continued his act of bereft.

Tissaia rolled her eyes at his dramatics. “There’s a pot in the kitchen.”

“The swill?” Vilgefortz asked offended. Admittedly the coffeepot at the station had seen better days; the coffee brewed tended to have a gritty consistency and tasted a bit like nickels, which was why Tissaia generally stuck with black tea when in the office. PC Orson came ambling up to the pair then, holding the crumpled paper bag that he’d rescued from the sidewalk proudly aloft, “I’ve got the croissants.”

“There’s a good man!” Vilgefortz clapped him merrily on the shoulder then looked pointedly at Tissaia. “Now here is a man dedicated to completing the mission.”

“Right, you two enjoy those.” She eyed the goods distrustfully. “I’d watch out for ants if I were you.”

Vilgefortz shot Orson a sideways glance for explanation but the young officer simply shrugged sheepishly. She smothered an amused smile and turned to depart from them. Her partner asked after, “You’re not coming? I’ll put the kettle on.”

“I’ve got to go to evidence. Have my picture taken.” She spun back around and flashed him a grin, pointing to her lower lip.

He scrutinized it, and then said flippantly. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d stuck with getting the coffee.”

“Your concern has been duly noted.” She said dryly.

“I’m only saying Tissaia.” He called after her and she waved dismissively as she walked off through a twin door like the one Bethany had been taken through. Documenting the assault didn’t take long though it did have Tissaia feeling slightly disoriented after the fact; the large flashbulb popping off in her face so many times had her seeing spots. Before heading down to her desk she stopped in the washroom to inspect the damage for herself, which she found not rather significant. She could only see where skin broke if she pulled her lip down and while it had started to swell and purplish coloring developed on her chin it was nothing an ice pack and arnica couldn’t take care of in a day or two. She paused to consider the rest of her reflection in under the cool, gray fluorescent lighting above the sink.

She had what one would consider to be refined features; high-apple cheekbones, steely blue eyes upturned elegantly, flawless pale skin, a gentle cleft in her chin. It was a clever beauty that she had a tendency to downplay. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a fastidious bun, her makeup minimal, and her blue button-down fastened all the way up to the collar and tucked into pressed slacks. She had always been fortunate to be able to look into the mirror and like what she saw though; she couldn’t even remember going through an awkward, spotty teenage phase. She carried herself with an air of confidence, which some people interpreted as haughty, though she rarely concerned herself with opinions of others. Tissaia brushed down some fly away hairs and straightened her mossy green trench coat before decisively exiting.

Detective DeVries nodded politely to her bustling co-workers as she made her way to the bullpen where a smattering of desks served as their workspace. The office itself was perfunctory if not objectively bleak with the institutional threadbare carpet, bulletin boards pinned with too many wanted posters, and the dingy kitchen in the corner with the questionable coffee pot and refrigerator always packed with ambiguous takeaway containers. Still, Tissaia found the place homey in its own way. Tall windows took over the far wall allowing for natural light to flood the room, it was always pleasantly warm and the air smelled of ink and sweet tobacco. A light chatter pervaded, at times accented with chummy laughter or a hot debate on the facts of a case. Busy and bright and worn-in, Tissaia found gratification in the patterns of it all.

When she got to her desk, she smiled, discovering a steaming cup of tea waiting for her. She sat and gave a grateful nod to Vilgefortz whose desk was situated across from her. He gave her a wink as he bit into a croissant. She sipped the tea, almost too hot and with a dollop of honey the way she preferred it, and settled in to fill out her report on the Tibbs arrest. The sense of belonging and contentment took over the morning as she quietly worked. Tissaia took pride in her work but it was also more than that. She wove herself into the structure of the institution, knowing that if she worked her case meticulously, followed rules, and remained steady then she would persevere. And at 35 years old, after doing so for 13 years, the job had become her entire sense of being, which to some would be a dreary existence. For Tissaia however it gave her purpose.

“ _More news from the town of Sodden Hill-_ “ A newscaster announced from the boxy television that sat on top of a filing cabinet. The small, static voices coming out of the TV had been apart of the blended background noise but when they mentioned Sodden Hill, recognition made it snap to the forefront of her mind. Tissaia turned to watch the screen that a couple of uniformed officers stood around with their arms crossed, taking a coffee break.

“Turn that up, would you?” The detective requested and one of the officers leaned in to turn the dial up. She could feel Vilgefortz surveying her curiously, but Tissaia ignored him and focused on the televised report.

“ _Sodden Hill Police are now searching for two missing 16-year-old girls. Abigail Johnson went missing three months ago and now Poppy Toms has gone missing, she was last seen getting in a car with someone yesterday._ ” Images of the two teenagers flashed on the screen, both with long brown hair and bright dark eyes and light skin, they could have been sisters or best friends. “ _The police are asking witnesses to come forward if they have any further information on the car or the driver. And now we go to David Rhys who is on the scene._ ”

The camera now cut away from the woman dressed in a coral suit seated at a studio desk to a man standing in front of a small house cordoned off with blue and white police tape. He had on a navy raincoat that was splashed with droplets of rain and he seemed to be bracing himself against wind as he started his report. “ _The police have mounted an intensive search of oak and grout in the area although their efforts are being hampered by extensive flooding. It’s been raining intensively here for over four weeks, so tonight with two girls still missing the tension here is palpable. This is a community in shock, though not for the first time._ ”

The news that had been showing aerial views of a quaint, countryside town and the surrounding waterlogged pastures and wooded glens then displayed a school picture of another girl, not unlike the other two who had gone missing with glittering eyes, freckles dappled across her cheeks, and her brown hair pleated into two braids down either side of her head, but this photograph looked older. It made Tissaia’s heart stop painfully in her chest. The reporter continued in his baritone voice, “ _Twenty years ago this small town was upended when a local teenager, Philippa Eilhart, originally thought to have been a runaway was reclassified as missing under suspicious circumstance when her purse was discovered along side of the road two weeks after her disappearance._ ”

The picture of the girl lingered on the screen though Tissaia knew the image by heart, knew so much more about Philippa than the flat pixels of the television displayed. She knew how silky her hair felt in between her fingers, knew she hated her freckles, and knew the frosted pink lip-gloss she snuck on before the photo was taken had royally pissed off the girl’s mother and tasted like bubblegum. The announcer went on, “ _To this day the police have not been able to find out what happened to Philippa and her whereabouts are unknown though she is presumed to be dead. Law enforcement will not comment on whether or not all three cases are connected though with noticeable similarities locals and the population at large are concerned a serial killer may be in their midst. We will have more as the story unfolds._ ”

Tissaia swiveled back to her desk as the news transitioned into the weather segment and she tried to refocus on her computer, staring at the cursor blinking and the blank box that needed to be filled out. But news from Sodden Hill, the small town she grew up in, and the stagnant photo of Philippa Eilhart remained with her, consuming any thought she tried to move on to only to come that to the girl.

Philippa would always be the girl burgeoning out of the plainness of childhood and starting to hint at the beautiful woman she would become, could have become. She’d never come out of her teenage years though, never cut her hair into a chic bob like Isabella Rossellini the way she always talked about but her mum would never allow, never try a different lip-gloss, never learn to love her freckles, never get laugh lines around her eyes, never smile at Tissaia ever again. And Tissaia would never get the chance to reconcile the fight she had with her best friend, her first love, on the hill under the elder tree the day that she disappeared.

The detective couldn’t sit with her memories anymore. She looked over to Vilgefortz who seemed to carefully avoid looking at her as he worked on his own computer. She was grateful that he at least pretended that nothing was wrong. They’d been partners for so long he was attuned to her moods he knew when to leave her alone. Tissaia asked him abruptly, “Did you find that Dudley lad that was seen around the neighbor on the east end where those robberies have been taking place?”

“I’ve got his address but his mother says he hasn’t been home. I think he’s gone up the tree.” Vilgefortz rubbed at his goatee.

“Hiding because you think he knows something?”

He nodded. “The robberies look like a crew is involved. He’s the lookout I’d wager.”

“How about we go shake some branches? See what falls loose.” Tissaia proposed.

“Brilliant.” Her partner said already standing and grabbing his coat from the back on his chair. “We can grab some coffee on the way.”

She shook her head at his eagerness though felt it herself as she put on her own coat. Tissaia wanted to move, wanted to feel the pavement under her feet as she and Vilgefortz went to knock on doors and question shopkeepers to look for their next lead. She wanted to feel apart of something bigger than herself so she could forget the rest.


	2. To Sodden Hill

At the finish of the day the detectives didn’t find their man in connection to the robberies but Tissaia felt better, more level after her time on the streets. Then Vilgefortz insisted that she come home with him for dinner. She tried to beg off saying she was too tired for company but he persisted, enticing her with his wife Margot’s curry until she finally relented. In the end, she was glad to have gone home with him. Margot fussed over the weak bruising on her chin and made sure she ate too much food. The women teased Vilgefortz, as they were wont to do whenever together, resulting in laughter bubbling around the table. She was relieved by the camaraderie between the three of them and the full-flavored spiciness of the curry that warmed her bones. Tissaia frequently had dinner with the couple though it had been a while since they’d gotten together. Still the dust easily shook out of their mechanisms so they chatted and grinned, glitteringly effortless.

They were the closest thing to family the Tissaia had, especially after her father and stepmother retired to Australia a few years ago. And before her dad was over 9,000 miles away, before he remarried her old English teacher, before her mother died of breast cancer her second year at university, her relationship with her parents would be described as polite and distant. It wasn’t that they hadn’t loved her or she hadn’t loved them but they never quite understood each other. Her parents could not understand her when she was young exploring the fields and coming home cover in muck with bleached fox skulls she’d find, or when she was a little bit older listening to Pink Floyd and The Clash and reading about the psychology of serial killers. They certainly didn’t understand her ambition to go to school for criminology to become a police officer, just as she could not see how they could be happy discussing how good the Sunday roast had been and watching taped episodes of the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson before heading off to bed at 9 o’clock every night.

Tissaia mystified her parents so they’d largely let her forge her own path while steadily, inadvertently phasing out of her life at the same time. They were down to a monthly phone call fueled by lingering obligation and ungainly familiarity and her father with his wife in tow would still return to England to spend Christmas together. It was enough for them and at the same time could be too much.

Besides her parents in a far off land and charming Vilgefortz’s the only other person close to Tissaia was Dr. Fringilla Vigo, one of the medical examiner for their unit. She had taken an immediate liking to the doctor when she first arrived from the lofty halls of Oxford University. She was the daughter of a high-ranking Member of Parliament, Arthur Vigo. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, she dressed posh and drove a flashy sports car that a normal medical examiner’s salary couldn’t afford, which rankled some feathers and most assumed she was a snob. But Tissaia found her work impeccable, her humor dry, and an excellent conversationalist to have a drink with after a long day at the office. They naturally partnered up on many cases, working well together with their matching dispositions and perhaps finding an ally in their predominantly male work environment.

Tissaia never felt hindered by her gender by any means. In fact her peers and especially younger officers often sought out her esteemed council. When a case stalled out or they needed help with procedure, they would come around to Tissaia’s desk for advice and a nudge in the right direction. Vilgefortz jokingly called them her students even though he was nearly as susceptible to aiding them as she was. In turn the partners were given the nicknames of Mum and Dad around the station, which Tissaia did her best to ignore but thoroughly amused Vilgefortz. Educating was part of the purpose she created working for the police, cultivating those around her, helping them become better officers for the good and safety of the city now and in the future to come.

That was her life too neatly summated, three friends, her students, and the job. Of course she’d had her share of romantic relationships over the years and the entanglements of other people that they entailed. The relationship would inevitably fail though and Tissaia had run through the gambit of reason why- _you’re never home, I can’t handle that your job puts you in danger, your job is more important than me, I cheated because you’re never here, you just don’t seem to care_. She let them leave her, on the occasion leaving them, but mostly they left her. Whatever regret or sadness she felt over the relationship ending was often tinged with a feeling of relief, a little part of her becoming unburdened. She would return to pleasant dinners with Vilgefortz and Margot or to commiserating with Fringilla in a shadowy, rundown bar over harsh whiskey or to her comfortable, quiet evenings alone.

It would soon be time for her to return to being alone in her tidy flat. Tissaia only had to climb out of the plush, red couch they had retired to but the comfort and still half-full glass of red wine in her hand were making it difficult. Margot had already gone upstairs to bed, kissing both her and Vilgefortz goodnight on the cheek. A football game played quietly on the television though neither of them paid any attention to it. The partners laughed boisterously over stories from their rookie days, the effervescent influence of the wine making everything far funnier than it had been at the time, like when Tissaia had chased a suspect off of a dock or when Vilgefortz got into a fight with a drunken Santa.

“Ah, what a day.” Vilgefortz announced nostalgically after a fit of their giggles had ebbed. He was sat slouched on the opposite end of the couch as Tissaia; his jet-black hair that was normally slicked back over his scalp had started to fall around his forehead. “Felt like we were back on the old beat.”

“We’re too old for the old beat.” Tissaia took a sip of her drink; suddenly aware her feet could use a soak.

“Speak for yourself.” He said offended, pressing his hand against his chest as if she had physically wounded him.

Tissaia started to remind him that he was older than she when she noticed the program on the television had switched to the news with a banner at the bottom of the screen indicating ‘breaking update’. Her jab died on her lips as an anchor appeared outside a police station and he began his report. “ _We interrupt your normal broadcast with an update on the cases of the missing girls in Sodden Hill, a story that had garnered attention from across the country. A man has been brought in for questioning in regard to the disappearances. Our sources say the man is Malcolm Istredd, a resident of Sodden Hill. 29-year-old Istredd is the local librarian and is married to a teacher at the high school._ ”

A wedding photo flashed on the screen and Tissaia jolted up from her relaxed pose in the cushions. Pounding filled her ears drowning out the newscaster’s words as all of the distance she had placed between herself and the past today vanished in a scant few seconds. The image showed a delightful, smiling couple in a sunny wheat field, a happier and brighter time. The man she assumed to be Malcolm Istredd was handsome with a long face, clean-shaven and hair cropped close to his head. His dark skin had a luminescent quality and his eyes were set a little far apart, giving him a naturally curious expression. In the picture, he was wrapped around a petite woman, her hair the same color as the wheat and iced blue eyes striking in the warm sepia tones of the photograph. She appeared more serious than her new husband, her smile muted as if she were trying to keep it a secret, just as Tissaia remembered it.

“Shit.” The expletive fell from her mouth.

Vilgefortz who had been taken by the report as well glanced over at her, “What is it?”

“The suspect’s wife, I know her.” Tissaia said her eyes still trained on the picture. “Sabrina Glevissig, or that’s what she used to be called.”

“How’d you know her?”

“She was the sister, half-sister, of Philippa Eilhart, the original girl to go missing, my best friend.” Her voice sounded flat, unaffected though her heart still beat erratically. She hastily downed the rest of her wine.

“Shit.” Vilgefortz echoed her sentiment. She had told him about Philippa before, probably on a night much like this where their conversation turned solemn and alcohol loosened their tongues eliciting privileged confessions. So he knew, despite not discussing it with Tissaia, how the current cases were drudging up old, painful memories and now she felt further sucked down with another familiar face.

Little Sabrina. She recalled the young girl from her teenage years always on the periphery. Her and Philippa were nearly 10 years her senior and had no interest in hanging around with a kid so her memories of the little girl seemed to be only in passing. A smudge of blonde eating Chocolate Shreddies at the breakfast table as Tissaia walked through to find Philippa in her room, probably still asleep, or Sabrina sitting on the porch steps with a book, eyes downcast and lips moving along to the words, while she and Philippa took off for the day on their bicycles. Not considering their age difference, the sisters were already so different; Philippa exuberant, independent, with a quick laugh and quicker temper and Sabrina reserved, dutiful, who scarcely could be bothered to pull her nose out of a book.

That was the last image she had of Sabrina. They were at a memorial held for Philippa when it became apparent that she wasn’t coming home. The small girl was seated in a pew with her eyes firmly on the hymnal that was too big for her hold so it lay awkwardly across her lap. At the time, Tissaia had thought it typical of the girl but now she looked back with guilt. Sabrina had only been a child, unable to fully comprehend what was happening around her but knowing enough that she would never see her sister again.

“ _The police aren’t commenting at this time on the identity of the suspect or if he is under arrest, though the Chief Inspector in charge of the case says they have taken a major stride forward._ ” The broadcast concluded and the football match anticlimactically resumed, miniature figures pointlessly chasing around after a ball. The occupants in living room became silent in the wake of the news. Tissaia’s mind circled, coming back to one resolute thought, “I have to go out there.”

“Where? To Sodden Hill?” Vilgefortz asked mildly alarmed.

“Yes.” Tissaia said tightly. “I have to help with the investigation.”

“They’ve already got an investigation team in place. They aren’t going to want you barging in there.” He tried to reason with her.

“But I have specialist knowledge of the area and the suspect’s wife is a childhood friend.” She insisted. “I can help.”

“The Chief will never go for it.” He shook his head.

“Aadesh.” Tissaia said softly then paused. She braced her forearms on her legs, clasping her hands together as she gathered herself. Finally she turned to look at him, his eyes watching her with concern. “I wasn’t there for Sabrina when her sister disappeared. If I can somehow help her now, I have to try.”

“You know whoever has taken these girls probably isn’t the one who took Philippa.” Her partner reminded her gently. “Serial killers don’t go quiet for 20 years then reappear no matter what the media says.”

“I know.” She agreed. “But there is something about these missing girls… I know it probably won’t lead to finding Philippa but there is something drawing me back.”

Quiet over took them again. Aadesh raked his fingers through his hair and sighed, “I know the DCI in charge of the investigation.”

“You do?” Tissaia blinked surprised at his admission.

“Yeah, Byron Stregobor. We were in the academy together. We were friendly.”

“You hadn’t mentioned it.” A spike of anger pulsed in her temple.

“We hadn’t talked about it before. I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it and I’m telling you now.” He explained calmly. He waited a beat to see if she had a retort but Tissaia ticked her head down in concession to him, letting her irritation go. He continued, “I can talk to him, at least get you access to Sabrina.”

“Thank you.” She exhaled.

“Tissaia, Stregobor comes from the good old boys club mentality. He won’t take kindly to you interfering so no stepping on anyone’s toes while you’re there.” Vilgefortz warned. She nodded along with his words but her thoughts were else where, thinking of seeing Sabrina after all these years, of returning to her shabby hometown and what she could discover there.

“Hey.” Aadesh said a little more forcefully. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I’ve got it. No stepping on toes.” She repeated his words back to him though he still looked less than convinced, as he probably should.

“Right.” He leaned back into the couch once more. “What are you going to do to convince the boss of your plan?”

Tissaia considered a moment. “Last time I spoke with my dad he talked about finally selling the cottage. He said I should go see if I want to keep anything. I’ve been meaning to make it back to Sodden to sort through the house. I’ve got plenty of vacation hours to take off for the week.”

“Are you, Tissaia DeVries, planning on lying to a senior officer?” He pretended to be aghast.

“It’s not lying.” She half-heartedly glared at him. “It’s my time-off. I can use it how I see fit.”

He grinned at her. “Whatever you have to tell yourself. And I’m coming with you.”

“No. I don’t need you there.” Tissaia flat out refused.

“Trust me, you’ll need back up with Stregobor.” Then he added more seriously, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“And how will Margot feel about you taking off for the week?” Tissaia asked though she could feel her resolve weakening.

“I’ll talk to her.” He waved nonchalantly. “She’ll probably insist I go to keep an eye on you.”

“I told you, I don’t need-“

He cut her off gently, “I know. You don’t need me but you have me anyways.”

“Oh alright, you can come.” She tilted her head back to rest on top on the couch so she didn’t have to look at his gloating smile. “But I’m driving.”

“Wonderful, we can think of it as a mini-break.” He said as if suddenly please by the notion of taking the trip.

“A week at my father’s dusty cottage, during a manhunt? You’ve got a funny idea of a holiday.”

-

Later that night, after Tissaia had climbed in between her cool sheets and the warm tug of sleep finally pulled her under, the detective dreamt of being 16 years old once again. She and Philippa had left their bikes leaned against a short stonewall, hopping over the structure to walk the rest of the way to their destination. On the outskirts of town sat a large hill, the namesake of their quaint hamlet. Half way up the hill a crooked elder tree grew, clinging to the ground in defiance of gravity. It was their favorite place to laze away their summer days, away from parents and chores and the mediocrity of town life. The hill represented the edge of the boundaries that contained them and they longed to push past its confines. But they had to be content to simply sit on the edge of their world for a few more years.

When they were far enough from the road, Philippa slipped her hand into Tissaia’s making her smile foolishly. Her fingers were soft and a little dusty from the rubbery handlebars of her bicycle. The grass grew wildly, nearly coming up to their hips as they waded through and marched upward. They collapsed underneath the oasis of shade from the tree, the landscape swallowing them completely. Hands still clasped, the girls lay on their backs to look up at the intricate pattern of the branches and leaves, the sun glittering through them. In her dream, Tissaia couldn’t hear what they said but the tittered and grinned back and forth, stealing coy glances of one another.

The flecks of sunlight that made it to the ground splattered across them, creating little spotlights across Philippa's face; over a constellation of freckles on her nose, over one of her eyes so it glowed amber, catching in a lock of silky hair. She was beautiful. Their eyes met, their chattering ceased, and the air became heavy with anticipation. Then Tissaia shifted and Philippa shifted and their lips landed together eager and clumsy. They kissed like teenagers kissed, sweetly passionate and perfectly messy, like they were the first people to have ever discovered it. The exhilaration of it all thrummed in her veins, every sensation heightened and overwhelming. Tissaia ventured her hand out to rest against Philippa’s neck, to pull her closer, but suddenly her companion jerked away.

Confused, Tissaia opened her eyes to see Philippa glaring down at her. The yellow shine and dewy softness of the afternoon were gone, replaced with a harsh, white light that made everything stark and grey. She tried to ask Philippa what was the matter but her expression only hardened more. Tissaia reached out but the girl wrenched herself away, standing abruptly to stomp down the hill. She stood to follow, calling after her but winds picked up around them and carried her voice away to nothing. She pressed on, trying to follow though still she fell behind. She was forced to watch the girl with two braids swinging down her back recede farther and farther into the distance until there was no trace of her left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, more exposition, but who doesn't love expositing? Thanks for reading! Love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Visiting Hours

First thing the next morning Tissaia stopped in to see their Chief, a reasonable if somewhat aloof man, to explain her unexpected need for time off with her barely-veiled excuse. Her boss hadn’t known what to make of the request though, or the short notice she had provided for it. He raised his eyebrows dubiously and blustered a bit, giving her a feeble lecture about planning better in the future. DI DeVries bit the inside of her cheek and endured his rambling that was terribly awkward for the both of them. The detective generally didn’t require a stern talking to, more apt to being the one to give the stern talking to. But she endured it and in the end he signed off on it. She gratefully left his office with a ‘thank you sir’, passing an unsuspecting Vilgefortz heading in to speak with their boss about taking leave as well.

Tissaia buried herself in work as she had the day before. Partly out of necessity to square away her desk before leaving though mostly to keep the memories that haunted her dreams from resurfacing, the task becoming more difficult as the hours ticked by and her departure for Sodden Hill grew closer. Her meeting with Sabrina had become official. She’d called her father about staying at their cottage and he bemusedly agreed, telling her she could pick up the key from a neighbor who looked in on the place from time to time. Vilgefortz called his contact and asked to be able to speak with Sabrina on Tissaia’s behalf. By lunchtime, both the lead detective for the cases and the suspect’s wife consented to having her come visit. Sabrina hadn’t sent a message for Tissaia, nothing to indicate if she was pleased or reluctant. Only a simple yes that she would see her, leaving Tissaia’s mind to conjure up several different scenarios for how it would go reconnecting with the other woman. It felt like the day would never end.

But then suddenly it was early the following morning and Tissaia was driving her car out of the city with Vilgefortz in the passenger seat drowsily watching the scenery pass by. The tight packed buildings and narrows streets of the city widened to the picket fences and grand oak trees of the suburbs and widened further until they were driving through nothing but a patchwork of rolling hills and pastures, a vast blue sky with large roaming clouds expanding above them. As they journeyed, the landscape became more familiar to Tissaia, split rail fences cutting across a field, docile herds of cows mindlessly grazing, a trickling stream disappearing into a thicket of trees. She’d always thought of it as the beautiful nothingness, farmland and wilderness sprawling as far as the eye could see. She felt her pulse hard in her throat thinking about it.

With all the emptiness you’d think nothing could be hidden out there and yet Philippa had walked off into it and never came back.

They were close now as Tissaia steered the car around a bend and at a distance the prominent hill with the bent elder tree came into view. She pressed her foot a little harder on the accelerator to hurry passed and make it into town. Soon enough they were driving through the streets of the perfect, English countryside village. It was just as Tissaia remembered it. Tidy, gray-stone shops and antique street lamps pressed against cobblestone sidewalks as they always had, though there was an unusual buzz to the scene with uniformed officers in bright green traffic vests milling about and stray news vans camped out along the road, reminding Tissaia why they were there. Vilgefortz broke through her thoughts, “Are you alright?”

She realized she’d been chewing her lip, which she quickly stopped and nodded, “I’m fine.”

“Should we go straight to your father’s place?” He asked.

“No, let’s go see where they moved Sabrina first.” She turned her eyes to focus back on the road, turning right to take them out of the center of town. Rain began to splatter against the windshield.

Sabrina had been relocated to a group of townhouses while the police executed a search warrant on her home and supposedly to protect her from the onslaught of media. The apartments were set behind a neighborhood of brownstone houses with manicured lawns and gardens, everything polished and square. Situated against a grassy knoll, the homes were older and worn down, thin buildings inconspicuously huddled together with sun-bleached shingles and drooping gutters. The unit Sabrina had been put in was the farthest away at the top of the hill. Reporters and camera crews loitered around outside the gate forcing the detectives to park a bit away.

They traipsed up the road, Tissaia holding her coat over her head to protect herself from the steady rainfall, and shuffled through the small crowd to find an officer guarding the gate entrance. “DI DeVries and Vilgefortz, we’ve got authorization.”

She pulled out her badge to show the dripping constable and Aadesh did the same. He nodded them on and the partners went through, a flurry of questions from the reporters following them once their identities had been revealed. DI DeVries expertly ignored them and continued up the path to the door. As they drew near though, a woman emerged under an umbrella intercepting them. She had a no nonsense expression that was undercut by her naturally cheery characteristics, bright green eyes, rosy cheeks and fox red hair. Tissaia extended her hand to shake, “I’m Tissaia DeVries. I’m an old friend of Sabrina Glevissig, or rather Sabrina Istredd.”

“DC Coral Neyd.” The detective constable shook her hand firmly, her shell-pink lips never moving from a flat line. “I’ve been assigned as the liaison officer for Mrs. Istredd.”

“And this is Detective Vilgefortz.”

“Just you.” She said abruptly and went to head back inside. Tissaia turned in surprised to her partner. He looked taken aback as well and rather drenched, his hair already soaked through and droplets of water falling from the point of his nose. They awkwardly paused at the misunderstanding, glancing to DC Neyd, who was already waiting in the doorway for Tissaia, in hopes of allowing him in but her demeanor indicated she wouldn’t be budging on the matter.

“Oh fine.” Vilgefortz made an attempt to sound amiable but he added sarcastically. “ I’ll go for a walk, take in the sites.”

Tissaia nodded at him thankfully, tossing him her keys, “Go find a cup of coffee and come back in about an hour and a half. I’ll ring you if I’ll be longer.”

He agreed and slumped off to face the crowd of reporters once more. Tissaia stepped into the constricted entryway of the house, suddenly making her proximity to Coral very close. Their eyes met briefly then skittered away and the redhead retreated to white door in the hall, “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Tissaia hung her coat on one of the plain hooks on the wall, a puddle already forming on the scuffed hard wood floor underneath it. She stood there a moment taking in the blankness of the white walls, feeling as though they pressed in around her; she took a deep, calming breath. She could hear Coral talking through the thin wall, her tone gentle now like she was speaking to a child or small animal. “Sabrina, you’ve got a visitor… Tissaia DeVries.”

A couple of seconds dragged by, then the door swung open revealing Sabrina, looking mildly stunned and grasping a tea towel. Tissaia returned her bewildered expression. She’d seen the photograph of her on the news but to have Sabrina right in front of her made her realize how little the woman had changed. As a child her features were demure and fairylike, traits that had carried on into adulthood. Her blonde hair was arranged in a French braid and she had on a loose, periwinkle blouse though her stomach pushed out against it. Tissaia blinked when she realized what she was looking at and Sabrina’s hand subconsciously fell on the roundness of her belly as if to protect it.

“Hi.” Sabrina said a little breathless.

“Hello.” She replied and then silence once again. Under normal circumstances, Tissaia generally didn’t falter, and even under the extreme circumstances of her job- chasing down armed criminals, being shot at, administering first aid- she kept a level head and did what needed to be done. But now, she felt completely lost, any solid thought slipping from her mind as she tried to think of something to say.

In the end it was Sabrina who saved them from the stillness. “Shall I make us a cup of tea?”

“That’d be lovely.” Tissaia readily accepted and she followed her back into the kitchen. The blonde busied herself, filling the kettle from the tap and lighting the old gas burner with a match. Tissaia leaned against the doorframe and watched her.

“I should be doing that for you.” She remarked.

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” Sabrina said as she stretched to take down two matching blue mugs from the cupboard.

“I didn’t know- that is, no one mentioned you were pregnant.” The words stumbled out of her mouth. She added genuinely. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you… We’re excited.” She smiled tightly, her hand once again finding the curve of her stomach and rubbing it tenderly.

“How are along are you?”

“Nearly 6 months.”

“Do you know what you’re having?”

“No, we want it to be a surprise.” The kettle began to whistle, acting as a sort of summoning bell. The detective helped carry a carafe of cream and jar of honey to the kitchen table and took a seat in one of the hard-backed chairs while Sabrina poured the hot water over the tea bags.

As Sabrina placed a steaming mug in front of her, she asked her, “Where are your parents?”

It was strange that they weren’t around. Tissaia recalled them as good solid people, though a bit of an odd couple. Her mother, Martha, had been wild back in her day from stories she’d heard. She married Philippa’s father, who Tissaia only knew from being vaguely referred to as Ed and fully with distain, after only three months of meeting him and Philippa was soon to follow. When the girl turned 3 though her father left the family to chase a younger woman to the city never to return. It was just the mother and daughter until about five years later when Martha met Paul, Sabrina’s father. Their romance was almost as whirl wind as her first marriage and Tissaia could recall the glowering revulsion 8-year-old Philippa felt towards him even though she didn’t see anything particularly offensive about him. Paul was kind and dedicated and always had a butterscotch toffee for the girls if somewhat predictable. They ended up married after a year and the next year Sabrina came as a happy surprise. While some children might have looked at the arrival of a new baby with jealousy, Philippa saw it as an opportunity for freedom. Her antics would often escape the notice of her mom and step-dad who were distracted by the new bundle of joy. Philippa, with Tissaia in tow, wandered to her heart’s content; the only thing she couldn’t get out of was church every Sunday morning.

“They’re on a World Cruise so they’ve been hard to get a hold of. Besides they’d been saving for years. I don’t want them to have to come back for nothing. They’re due back before the baby is born.” The younger woman curled her hands around her cup, her shoulders were up and tense. “What about you? Married? Any kids?”

“Never married, no kids.” Tissaia shook her head, adverting her gaze to stir her tea. “How long have you and Malcolm been married?”

“Two years but we’ve been together since college. We met at my first year in university.” Sabrina spoke meaningfully, “He’s a good man, always been so kind and sweet.”

Tissaia could feel her desperation leaking into Sabrina’s voice, asking her for reassurance that she couldn’t truly give. She’d sat across from many family members of people who had committed a terrible crime and heard the same words come from them. Swearing they were good, that they would never be capable of those heinous acts, but ultimately no one could know what others were capable of regardless of how close you were to them. Often it was harder for the people closest to the perpetrator to see the darkness that lurked within. Tissaia offered her an understanding smile, unable to come up with any platitudes that would be adequate in the moment.

“Anyways, I was shocked to hear from you. I haven’t seen you come back in quite some time.” Sabrina mentioned.

“Yes, my career can become all consuming.” Tissaia said sheepishly. “But when I saw your picture on the news… I just wanted to be able to offer you support. I know how hard it can be to go through the system.”

“He didn’t take those girls.” Sabrina asserted, and then said more imploringly, “They got it wrong, don’t they? Sometimes they make mistakes.”

“I don’t know anything about why they brought him in. I can’t say one way or the other.” Tissaia put her hand comfortingly over Sabrina’s but the blonde pulled away harshly.

“Just say it is what you’re thinking, everyone else is thinking it. You believe he is guilty.” She snapped, her eyes piercing with accusation.

The detective grimaced. She could lie to Sabrina and tell her everything would be all right, however it wouldn’t be doing her any favors in the long run. “The police generally don’t bring people in under suspicion unless they have good reason. I don’t know any details but I promise you I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Sabrina looked prepared to argue but clicked her jaw shut. Whatever emotion that had risen to the surface was tamped back down. She sipped her tea while she composed herself before saying, “Well... thank you for coming. When I was a kid, you were always nice to me before…”

Her words trailed off but Tissaia could imagine the rest of her thought. _You were always nice to me before Philippa disappeared, then you disappeared too._

-

The remainder of their visit was spent with more small talk as they eased into knowing one another. Sabrina seemed eager to ignore the problem at large in favor of Tissaia talking about spending the New Year with her father and stepmother in Australia and how strange it was for her father to have married Miss Abernathy who they’d both suffered in high school. When Vilgefortz messaged her to say he was back to pick her up, they exchanged phone numbers and agreed to arrange another time for them to reconvene. Aadesh didn’t pry when she got into the car. Instead he asked once again if they should go to her father’s house but she shook her head, “No, let’s report to the police station. I want to speak with DCI Stregobor.”

“Right, just remember what I said about him.” Vilgefortz sighed. “He will be a pompous ass.”

“I can handle myself.” Tissaia assured him.

“I know. That’s what worries me.” He muttered as he pulled the car away.

At the local police station the city detectives were allowed into the back with instructions on where Stregobor’s office was located. The station was small and jammed with file cabinets everywhere, even arranged in the hall for lack of a better place to put them, and desks setup in a maze-like fashion that people had to weave through. It made Tissaia appreciate their station all the more. There was a hyper activity to the place as officers came and went urgently, all hands on deck as searches for the missing girls continued. DeVries and Vilgefortz maneuvered down the cramped hallway where at the end they could see the door with ‘Detective Chief Inspector’ painted on the glass.

As they got close though muffled, aggravated voices could be heard from inside and the blinds were shut tight. The partners hesitated, uncertain with how to proceed. Their indecision led to them standing outside the door and accidentally trying to listen. Tissaia could hear a male and a female, neither of them sounding happy with the other.

“You’re narrowing the scope of the investigation too soon.” The woman said adamantly.

“We have witnesses who-“

She cut him off. “The witness testimony isn’t sufficient-“

The man said, his tone imperious, “I decide what is sufficient. Not you.”

“You think you’re running a sufficient investigation? It’s sufficient to drag the first black man you find-“

“DS Vengerberg, that is enough.” The man growled over top of her spewing words. “If you continue your line of questioning you can put your badge on my desk right now.”

There was silence. The deep voice started again with the bare minimum of civility, “Is there anything else?”

“No.” The reply strained with ire.

“Then get out of my office and stay away from my case.”

A moment later the door flew open, the binds rattling with the anger that the action warranted, and a scowling young woman came into view. She startled to find people right outside the door, she dark eyes widened as they connected with Tissaia’s but only for a second as she brushed passed them, long, black curls flowing wildly behind her. Tissaia was drawn to watch the mystery woman go like she’d been caught in a gravitational pull. With only a brief glance she could still see the woman had been beautiful, tall and with olive skin. Her eyes followed the woman as she stalked down the corridor; absentmindedly thinking how the charcoal blazer she wore was a little boxy and large on her slender frame.

“Aadesh Vilgefortz, you old so and so.” Stregobor exclaimed jovially yanking her out of her thoughts. He had come to greet them while Tissaia had been distracted by the storm of a woman and the strange, stirring feeling in her chest. She turned her focus to the man vigorously shaking her partner’s hand and Aadesh made the required introductions.

“Bryon Stregobor, this is my partner. DI Tissaia DeVries.”

The DCI looked like many of the older men on the force with small eyes set into a face of broad, pale plains and an aquiline nose. He had a receding hairline and full beard starting to turn white though still clinging to the reddish hue it once had been. He delicately shook Tissaia’s hand next. “Ah yes, the detective I allowed to see Mrs. Istredd. It’s good to meet you.”

Instantly she found the man already passed annoying and went straight to condescending. Tissaia spoke through a forced smile. “Likewise. Thank you for granting access to Sabrina. I just want to be able to help in anyway I can.”

“Please come in.” Stregobor ushered them into the room gestured to the two leather chairs in front of his desk for them to sit. He continued, sitting behind his desk. “I don’t see how you could be any help. We’ve got everything under control.”

“Of course.” Tissaia clenched her back teeth to quell her urge to dispute his declaration. It wouldn’t do to make an enemy her first day back. Her partner would have to take lead on this if they wanted to get any information from him. Still she inquired, “How is the search going if you don’t mind my asking?”

“That has been slower than we hoped for. With the flooding we can’t search as far in a lot of place. The rivers moving so fast, it’s too fast for the divers.” He explained.

“Is that where you think they are? In the river?” Vilgefortz asked.

“It would be the most obvious thing. It’s flowing so fast, they’d be gone like that.” The chief inspector snapped is fingers. “When it comes to getting rid of bodies, the river would be most useful.”

“Bodies? Could still be alive.” Tissaia suggested.

“Two girls, one missing over three months? What do you think?” He said dismissively.

“So, what’s Istredd saying?” Aadesh asked lightly. Tissaia knew that tone. It was the voice he used during interrogations when he didn’t want to spook a suspect, sort of pleasant but also disinterested like he didn’t really care about the answer.

Stregobor was all too willing to boast about what he had so far. “A witness came forward said he saw Istredd pick up Poppy the night she went missing. He’s not denying that with the witness and all. Said he picked her up and gave her a ride to the bus stop on the edge of town. Said that she was on her way for a night out in Cintra. He is denying killing her though.”

“What about the first girl?” Vilgefortz prompted.

“He claims he never picked her up. We’ve got his car and we’re checking it now. Maybe we’ll find something tying her to him and he’ll be right where we want him.” He claimed then leaned forward conspiringly. “If I had so much as a strand of hair, I’d go right now and charge that smug prick.”

“Smug?” Her partner pressed for tangible evidence for the allegation.

The other man only shrugged and lamely said, “He’s got one of them faces, you know... Like Jack Boyle, you remember him from training.”

Vilgefortz laughed along with Stregobor as they started to reminisce but his answer didn’t sit well with Tissaia. She smiled politely along with the men as they talked however her mind was elsewhere, thinking about the information they'd learned, about the stirring in her chest that had resumed and what it could mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything takes longer than anticipated, you know what I mean. Thanks for tuning back in. Love to hear that feedback :)


	4. The White Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a quick note up top, I'm going to lay out how the detective rankings work. I think the story will make it relatively apparent but just in case here we go. Detective Constable (DC) is the first level like Coral. Then Detective Sergeant (DS) is second like Yennefer. Then there is Detective Inspectors (DI) like Tissaia and Vilgefortz. And then next level up is Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) like Stregobor. There are higher rankings but they aren't relevant at this point. A Senior Investigating Officer (SIO) is assigned to cases and generally at least has to have a ranking of DCI to qualify.
> 
> So without further ado, Chapter 4!

“Remind me not to vacation with you ever again.” Vilgefortz sank into the ostentatiously floral sofa in the living room of her childhood home.

“We’re not on vacation and you invited yourself along.” Tissaia said distractedly as she crafted a text to Fringilla who had messaged her to see how the trip was going. She sent a message in reply, telling her friend they got in all right and that she would check back in later not ready to get into specifics with her.

“You’re a mean lady.” He squinted at her.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’re leaving in about 30 minutes.” Tissaia told him starting out of the room toward the front stairs.

He balked at her. “Where are we going now?”

“To the pub.” She paused in the open doorjamb to the foyer. “The mean lady is getting you a pint and a hot meal.”

“Oh thank god for that.”

“Unless you’d rather stay here? There are probably some cans of soup hiding in the cabinets that expired in 1997 we could heat up.” She offered glibly.

“Get away from me mean lady.” He shot back. She just gave him a Cheshire grin and grabbed her suitcase to continue her trek upstairs. It had been decided that Vilgefortz would sleep on the pullout couch downstairs, for some reason he refused to sleep in her parent’s old room, and Tissaia would take her old bedroom. She passed through the house all at once feeling the inkling of familiarity and as though she was an intruder gingerly moving through the hall.

Tissaia pushed open the last door on the left, the hinges creaking plaintively with disuse, to reveal her old bedroom. The room had been redone as a guest room since she had left it, the once peach colored walls now a respectable gray and the white lace curtains replaced with blue, medallion-patterned ones. Her teenage clutter of National Geographic’s posters, band stickers, school academic ribbons, forgotten stuffed animals had been boxed up and tucked away in the attic probably. The furniture was the same though, a matching set of cherry stained bed frame, bureau, and vanity. The feeling of familiar yet foreign amplified. She left her bag by the door and went to the window, opening the curtains to let the last of the fading light in.

Her view across the open field that stretched out behind the cottage was stunningly unchanged. Many times, she’d looked out the window at the sea of emerald green grass with a grove of trees on the horizon. It had stopped raining, the gray sheet of clouds dissipating just enough for a pearly pink and faded yellow sunset to come through. Tissaia shut her eyes to the peaceful scene. It felt like she could turn around and Philippa would be lounging on the bed with her algebra homework or flipping through a magazine. A memory resonated in her mind.

_“Tissaia!”_

_“What?” She turned startled from gazing out her bedroom window._

_“What are you doing?” Philippa asked. She must have been trying to get her attention for a while because she sounded mildly annoyed._

_“Just looking at the sunset.” She smiled apologetically at her best friend._

_“Well quit being boring and come take this quiz with me.” Philippa teased, brandishing some teenybopper magazine she’d picked up at the pharmacy. “It tells you what kind of kisser you are.”_

_Tissaia ignored the warmth in her cheeks that rose and settled in next to the other girl against the headboard. They answered the questions that seemed to have very little to do with actual kissing and tallied points to see which category they fell in. Philippa cleared her throat dramatically as she read the results, “I’m a passionate kisser. I crave intense love and fire in my relationships and don’t mind a touch of drama. I’m down to experiment and would choose romance over adventure any day. Just remember it doesn’t hurt to slow things down once and a while.”_

_Philippa preened a little apparently pleased with her analysis. She went on to read the excerpt for Tissaia. “You are a reserved kisser. You’re a little shy when it comes to kissing and would never be caught in a PDA-filled makeout session. You’re low-key about showing affection but remember it can be fun to let your hair down.”_

_“Ha,” Philippa cackled. “Spot on.”_

_“What does a silly magazine know anyways?” Tissaia snatched it from her and tossed it to the bottom of the bed._

_“Come on Tiss. It’s okay to let your hair down.” Philippa grinned impishly and started to tug at the scrunchie that held Tissaia’s hair up in a ponytail. She protested but Philippa kept pulling and it devolved into a little wrestling match, giggling and shoving each other playfully. Finally, Philippa won, victoriously throwing the fabric band where Tissaia had discarded the magazine. As their laughter subsided, Tissaia realized that had become closer, nestled further down into the pillows facing one another. They were so close she could count the freckles on Philippa’s face and smell the remnants of strawberry body mist she used._

_Philippa suddenly confessed. “Stephen kissed me under the bleachers after school yesterday.”_

_“He did?” Tissaia felt an ugly knot form in her stomach. “How was it?”_

_“A bit like how I imagine snogging a Labrador would be.” She said thoughtfully then laughed at her own joke. Tissaia could only manage an amused smile. Philippa went on to ask, “What about you? Have you kissed any of the boys?”_

_Tissaia wrinkled her nose thinking about all the boys in their class. “No, they’re all horrible.”_

_“You have to like someone.” Her friend insisted. “How about Lance? I think he fancies you.”_

_“Lance can barely read.” She scoffed._

_“It doesn’t matter if he can read Tissaia. It matters how fit he is.” Philippa rolled her eyes. “Come on, there has to be someone.”_

_She turned away from her friend to lie on her back, evading the inquisition. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”_

_“Stephen was good practice but I really like Jonathan. You just need to find someone to practice with so you’ll be ready when you do find someone.” Philippa said, her tone full of practicality. She was quiet for a moment before adding more softly. “I could help you practice.”_

_“What?” Tissaia’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes darting over to gauge how serious the other girl was. She half expected Philippa to be laughing at her expense, telling her how priceless the expression on her face was, however there was no mirth in her features. Her companion was gazing at her steadily, her eyes flicking down to look at Tissaia’s lips. She swallowed hard and nodded._

_“Yeah, all right.” She was afraid to sound over eager but it felt as though she was vibrating with excitement. She hadn’t necessarily thought about kissing her best friend before now, rather there were these instances of tension, some swirling undercurrent that she didn’t understand but wanted to desperately. They were leaning in slowly but surely until their lips touched, first gently then a bit harder, moving together experimentally. Tissaia felt in awe at the plush feeling of Philippa’s lips against hers like it answered all the questions she had but didn’t know to ask. The girls parted with a gasp of breath._

_“Wow.” Philippa said a little dazed._

_“Yeah.” Tissaia concurred with the same tone._

_“We should- we should try that again.” Philippa then clarified, “For practice.”_

_“Yeah.” She repeated._

_And their lips met once again, bolder now, pressing more firmly and finding a cadence to their movements. Tissaia darted her tongue against Philippa’s lower lips that caused her to shudder so she did it again. Tissaia didn’t feel reserved when she was kissing Philippa. She felt wild, like a stampede of horses was running in her chest. She felt-_

“Tissaia.”

She turned from the window to see Vilgefortz standing in the doorway and her memory evaporated, the reality of the gray guest room settling over her. He took a step forward, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s just weird being back here, in this room, seeing Sabrina. It’s all different and all the same.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She gave him a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to linger in the room and have any more memories return. “Let’s go eat.”

“Thank god, I’m hungry as a nanny goat.” Vilgefortz rushed out.

Tissaia chuckled. “Well let’s go before you start eating the furniture.”

-

They drove down to the nearest pub that had been called the Rose & Crown when Tissaia was growing up but had since changed hands and was now called The White Wolf. The stout red brick building was unchanged except for the new sign complete with the silhouette of a white wolf howling at an unseen moon. Inside the pub was traditionally decorated with dark walnut wooden paneling and bar, the lights glowed yellow giving everything a warm hue and leaving plenty of shadowy corners. There was a fair amount of people in the pub, sitting around tables with their pints or taking turns at dartboards that hung along the wall but it appeared like they missed the dinner rush. A waitress whooshed by with a tray of empty glasses and she told them to sit where they liked.

The partners choose a couple of chairs at the end of the bar farthest away from the clamor of the other patrons. As soon as Tissaia and Aadesh sat down the bartender threw down some coasters in front of them. “What can I get for you?”

The man had deep, gruff voice and an imposing form. His broad chest stretched the slate thermal Henley shirt he wore and he’d pushed up the sleeves revealing his thick, muscled forearms. He had interesting long, white-blonde hair and light hazel eyes that were a little hypnotic.

“I’ll have a Guinness.” Vilgefortz ordered.

“I’ll have the same.” Tissaia added. “And can we have some menus.”

“Of course.” He reached under the counter and handed them laminated sheets of paper that had the standard pub dishes. He quickly returned with two tall glasses of the dark stout. As he set down the drinks the man asked, “You folks here for the searches?”

“You could say that.” Tissaia said a little evasively. “How could you tell?”

“Most people not from around here are.” He explained simply.

“I grew up around here actually.” Tissaia wrapped her hands around her chilled glass. “When did this place become The White Wolf?”

“Six years ago after I retired from the RMC and bought it.” Given his physique Tissaia was unsurprised to learn he’d been in the Royal Marines. The bartender then introduced himself. “I’m Geralt Rivia.”

“Tissaia DeVries.” And out of habit she titled Aadesh. “And this is my partner DI Vilgefortz.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you set to order?” He glanced away for a second to give a nod to a couple men that came up to the bar indicating he’d be with them in a moment. The detectives told Geralt what they wanted; fish and chips with extra mushy peas for Vilgefortz and the Sheppard’s pie for Tissaia. They settled in to drinking the soothing rich beer and idly talking the busyness of the day away. Tissaia let herself slip into the ease of a cold drink and familiar company.

Vilgefortz was talking about a short conversation he had with Margot back at the house, something about getting a new washing machine, but Tissaia’s attention had shifted to a striking woman who had just entered the pub drawing her eye. It took her a moment to realize she recognized the woman; it was the same detective who had stormed out of Stregobor’s office earlier that day. She appeared a little transformed though, her drab blazer replaced with a snug leather jacket and a daring shade of crimson painted on her full lips. She was the kind of beautiful that made a hush fall over a room with glossy, raven hair and mysterious, hooded eyes that impertinently scanned the room. She recalled Stregobor referring to the woman as ‘DS Vengerberg’ in their spat. She seemed too young to be a Detective Sergeant, maybe about 25 years old. When Tissaia had been her age she was still cutting her teeth as a Detective Constable.

“Ahem.” Vilgefortz cleared his throat loudly and she snapped her eyes back to him to see him grinning madly at having caught her staring at the woman. “See anything you like?”

The woman was undeniable attractive and under different circumstances the kind of woman Tissaia would have approached and offered to buy a drink however she didn’t want to confess that to Vilgefortz. Fortunately before she had to come with a retort for him, a waitress came with their platters of food and Vilgefortz heartily began digging in, forgetting all about his teasing at the presence of food. But out of the corner of her eye she saw the woman nod to Geralt and he returned the gesture in recognition. He poured whiskey over ice as she walked up to the bar and they exchanged a few unheard words. She gave him a beguiling smile before turning away to take a seat at a table a little apart from the rest of them.

When they were about half way through their meals, Geralt came by, “Everything good over here?”

“Great.” Vilgefortz said around a mouthful of peas.

“Another round?”

“Yes please.” Tissaia nodded. The bartender got fresh glasses filling them up with the dark, foamy liquid from the Guinness tap. When he came back, Tissaia unexpectedly found herself asking him, “Do you know the woman over there in the corner?”

He looked out to see who see could be referring to and she could tell he knew immediately who she meant. “Yennefer? Yeah, I know her.”

 _DS Yennefer Vengerberg._ Tissaia would say his tone was exasperatedly affectionate. Geralt didn’t seem like the type of bartender that would indulge in town gossip but she continued, “Has she been a part of the missing girls investigation?”

Geralt sort of harrumphed. “Even if she isn’t on the case, Yennefer wouldn’t let that stop her from investigating. Yen does whatever Yen wants to do.”

She remembered the final warning Stregobor had issued to the young detective while ordering her out of his office: stay away from my case. “Not if the Senior Investigating Officer has anything to say about it.”

“Stregobor?” He scoffed. “He hasn’t proven capable of controlling Yennefer as of yet, which may be for the best.”

“How so?” Tissaia inquired.

“Last year a man was killed out on his farm, found in his bathrobe in the barn with a gunshot wound to the head, not self-inflicted. Stregobor was the SIO assigned to the case and early on he zeroed in on the man’s neighbor, a woman named Ren Friedman.” Geralt rested against the bar as he narrated. “They were having a dispute over where the boundary of their properties lay and he was convinced she resorted to killing him over it, couldn’t be convinced otherwise. Stregobor had her under arrest, ready to send her up the river, but Yennefer found evidence to support her alibi. She uncovered CCTV footage of Ren at a petrol station 45 minutes away in Cintra right in the middle of the timeframe for the time of death that he’d missed though it’s questionable if he even attempted to corroborate it.”

“Then she followed up on a pill that had been found in the folds of his robe. It had been written off as the farmer’s heart medication but the prescription didn’t match his. It did match his brother’s heart medication though. Turns out it was the brother who did him in. He would have gotten the farm in the event of his death and he was trying to cash in his inheritance early, needed the money for gambling debts or something.”

“That isn’t how Stregobor told the story.” Vilgefortz raised his eyebrows.

“No he wouldn’t.” Geralt rumbled. “The whole thing was kept under wraps. He didn’t want some young rookie showing him up. He took the credit and Yennefer was quietly promoted. Stregobor has a lot of sway around here, she probably saved Ren’s life.”

“And that is why she can always have a drink on my tab.” A woman in a black and red checked flannel had joined them with Tissaia noticing. Her wavy brown hair chopped haphazardly to her chin and she had an interesting combination of doe-eyed innocence with a bit of roguishness about her.

“Ren.” Geralt greeted her. “Another lager?”

“If it’s not too much of a bother.” Then she turned announced loudly. “And another whiskey on the rocks for Vengerberg.”

Hearing her name declared, Yennefer swiveled her head in their direction, smiling loosely when she saw Ren. She stood from her seat and sauntered over to them. Ren arched her brow at her as she approached, “What? You don’t say hello anymore?”

“I only stopped in for a fast drink.” She had a wry voice that was softer than she had anticipated based on her outward appearance. “I want to leave before Jaskier tries to start karaoke again.”

“Well have another drink with me.” Ren requested as Geralt came back with their beverages. “You just missed Geralt regaling these people with your heroics.”

“Really?” Her tone implied she wasn’t pleased to be the topic of conversation. She peered at Tissaia and Aadesh distrustfully.

Geralt appeased her. “They’re cops, Yen. Here for the missing girls.”

“Right. You were going into DCI Stregobor’s office this afternoon.” She realized though that didn’t help raise her opinion of them.

“I’m DI Tissaia DeVries and this is my partner Aadesh Vilgefortz. We’re not here in an official capacity. I’m here for Sabrina.” Tissaia elaborated. “I knew her from when we were kids.”

“You’re the detective who spoke to Sabrina today.” Her derisive detachment faded entirely and intrigue sparked in her eyes. Tissaia could see her considering her carefully, but she had no idea what she could be thinking. Despite her frank gaze, there was something unknowable about her that only served to pull Tissaia in more.

“Yes, I knew I recognized you.” Ren abruptly claimed. “You were in my brother Aiden’s grade.”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry I don’t remember you.” She could barely recall Aiden if she were being honest.

“I was in Year 10 when you were in your last year before university.” She said unbothered. “No reason for you to remember a spotty 14-year-old. Since we’re all friends now, join us for a drink.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose.” Tissaia refused.

“I insist. We can fill you in on all the chin-wagging that has been going on around here.” When Tissaia still looked hesitant, Ren didn’t back down. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

DI DeVries turned to Vilgefortz for his thoughts. He’d been eating his chips throughout their interaction and shrugged amiably. “Why not? Sounds like a laugh.”

So the partners left their mostly eaten meals and grabbed their beers to go sit at the table Yennefer had come from. Somewhat to Tissaia’s disappoint the conversation strayed away from the searches and anything to do with the missing girls. Ren led the dialogue, mostly talking about people they’d mutually known in high school. She’d start in on someone, asking Tissaia with a tilt of her head, _you remember Cynthia Platt?_ Tissaia could barely nod and Ren would be off filling them in on her life story, telling of failed marriages, trouble with the law, weight gain, anything she deemed worthy to report on. And Tissaia did have fun listening to the woman, the unlikely drinking mates becoming chummier as the evening went on or perhaps that was the third round of drinks they had that created the illusion. Then a man in a garish, paisley shirt came up to the table. He was swaggeringly drunk with a boyish face and hair that looked like it would normally be tidily combed though now fell over his forehead in disarray. He wanted Ren and Yennefer to come play darts. When Yennefer flatly declined Jaskier- his name she said with considerable annoyance- Vilgefortz ended up agreeing to the game. The three wandered off to play, though not without a detour to the bar for yet another round.

Tissaia watched her partner leave, knowing that he would be regretting his decisions in the morning. She turned back to the table keenly aware that now just her and Yennefer were sitting there. The young detective was observing her with the guarded yet entrancing expression she had. Yennefer hadn’t said much during the evening though on more than one occasion Tissaia caught her eyes lingering on her intently. Resting her forearms on the table, Yennefer’s eyes dropped to stare at her whiskey glass as she suddenly asked, “How was Sabrina? When you saw her today.”

“All right, all things considered…” She added more thoughtfully. “She was controlled like she was ignoring her emotions.”

“Sounds like Sabrina.” Swirled the ice cubes around the tumbler before taking a bite of the liquor.

“You know her well?”

“Yeah, I know her.” She said heavily and it gave Tissaia pause, like there was more for her to say on the matter, like why did Yennefer have to ask her how Sabrina was.

“Are you not allowed to see her during the investigation?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” She sighed. “But I’m glad she’s let someone be there for her.”

“You know, I heard a bit of your… discussion with Stregobor this afternoon.” Tissaia admitted before probing. “You don’t think Istredd is involved.”

“I think the DCI has a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions and prosecuting his cases in the media and court of public opinion.” Yennefer said sourly, her brow furrowing.

“But how do you feel about Istredd’s involvement? It’s not looking good for him.”

Anger flared further in Yennefer, which she directed onto Tissaia, her eyes blazing and lips twitching up in a sneer. “What the hell do you know? Have you come here just to condemn him too?”

“I’m not condemning anyone.” Tissaia snapped back meeting the anger with her own. She continued more coolly. “From what I’ve heard tonight, you’ve got a decent gut for detective work. You know the cases better than me, I just wanted your opinion.”

Tissaia then realized how close they’d become, both of them leaned over the table and glowering at one another. As if Yennefer realized it too, she slouched back in her seat and took a deep breath. After a beat she answered, “I’ve known Mal a long time and I don’t think he is capable of taking those girls. And even if he is, he and especially those girls deserve for us to find enough evidence that doesn’t leave a shadow of a doubt.”

“Look, I wanted to come here to help in any way I can.” Tissaia felt what the other woman was saying deep in the chest. “I can help, if you’ll let me.”

The detective sergeant regarded her, taking time to consider the offer. Then almost imperceptibly her head ticked down in acknowledgment. She asked, “Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“Nothing.” Tissaia said quickly.

“Come by my flat tomorrow morning. Say 9 o’clock?”

“Yes, I can be there.”

“You know the botanist shop on Temeria Road?” Tissaia assented that she knew it and Yennefer proceeded. “I live above the shop.”

“Freddy Merigold doesn’t live there anymore?”

“Not since he retired out to the cottage on Hillcrest. His granddaughter runs the store now.” Yennefer supplied then down the rest of her whiskey. “I’m shoving off. Tell Ren I said my goodbyes.”

“You’re okay to get home?” Tissaia scrutinized her as she stood to go.

“I’m fine. I walked.” The younger woman seemed thrown that she’d asked but gave her a half-smile as she departed. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Good night.” She said, watching the slender figure cross the short distance to the door and disappear out into the night. Tissaia took the last few swallows of her draft and tried to calm down her thoughts. She had so many more questions about the cases and about Yennefer, but the alcohol had crept up on her and there was no point in getting lost in her own wondering. The detective needed a glass of water, about an hour to sober up and then would come the task of extract Vilgefortz from their new friends. She looked over to them as they cheered rambunctiously when Ren some how managed to get a bullseye, which apparently needed to be celebrated by a round of shots. Tissaia sighed and went to the bar to get that water and possibly commiserate with Geralt. It appeared like it may take some time before she was able to get into bed tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I get online and take a quiz about what kind of kisser you are and pretend to be different people when I took it? You bet your bottom dollar I did. Would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading!


	5. Lilacs & Gooseberry Jam

Fortunately, Vilgefortz tired himself quicker than Tissaia anticipated. She was able to get him home with his arm slung over her shoulders and a droopy smile on his face. As soon as Tissaia wrenched the stiff folded frame and squashed mattress out of the couch, he flopped down onto it with a great thump and mumbling incoherently. She rolled her eyes fondly at him and tossed the afghan from the back of the couch over top his limp form before taking herself up to bed for a fitful night of sleep. Sleep would elude her as her thoughts spun the drain and when she did manage to slip under it never lasted long.

Finally, after the umpteenth time of Tissaia opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling, pale light had started to seep across the comforter signifying she could finally rise for the day. She crept around in the predawn, brushing her teeth in the crisp, coppery water she recalled from her childhood and peeking out the curtains to look at the sheet of gray clouds that stubbornly covered the sky and threatened rain. She pulled on a maroon sweater on over her white button down to fight off the damp chill of the dreary weather and put hair up in its traditional bun just in time for her to be leaving the house. Softly padding down the stairs, Tissaia passed by Vilgefortz who had barely moved in the night. He snored fuzzily indicating he was still deep in sleep. She walked back to the kitchen before she left to fill up a glass of water from the tap and found a pad of paper and pencil in a kitchen drawer to scrawl him a note of her whereabouts. She set the glass and note on the end table by the sofa for him when he woke up, which seemed like it would be a long time from now, and departed out into the cool morning.

As she drove to the shops district, the town had just begun to shake off the quiet, peacefulness of the night. An older woman strode briskly in a jogging suit with little hand held weights. A few drowsy looking townsfolk queued up outside the café seeking out for their first cup of coffee. Shopkeepers dragged out their signboards and swept the sidewalks outside their storefronts in preparation for the day. Tissaia parked across the street from the garden shop; the green sign above it reading in gold embossed letters ‘Merigold’s Flowers & Botany’. In the large front window an array of colorful flowers- dusty pink roses, sunny daffodils, purple asters, pale lilies, powder blue hydrangeas and sprigs of lilacs- were displayed for bouquets. A woman with dark, tight curls in a flowing dress of a whimsical bird pattern struggled with a large terracotta pot, a sturdy shrub-like plant inside.

“Need a hand?” Tissaia asked as she walked up.

“That would be fantastic.” The woman smiled broadly.

Tissaia took one side of the pot and helped lift it so it sat with other similar plants all huddled under the awning. The shopkeeper brushed her hands off and gazed up at the gray sky distrustfully. She turned her attention to Tissaia, “Thanks for that. Come on in before the rain starts again.”

Fat, sporadic droplets of water were already lazily splattering on the ground and pinging off the car roofs. Tissaia followed the woman inside the store where it was warm and smelled like sweet earth. The interior had a wild mess of herbs, succulents, ferns, and any other plant you could think of needing as well has stacks of pots, bagged soil, and gardening tools along the wall. The woman turned to Tissaia as she looked around the happily cluttered shop, “Anything I can help you find today?”

“No.” The detective redirected her attention to her. “I’m actually here to see DS Yennefer Vengerberg.”

“You’re here to see Yennefer?” Her eyebrows rose. “Is she expecting you?”

“Yes. I’m here on business.” She said.

The woman lowered her voice as if someone may overhear them though no one else had entered the shop, “Is it the investigations then?”

“It is.”

“It’s so horrible, those poor missing girls. I’ve been burning sage and rosemary every night for their protection.” Her soft brown eyes glistened forlornly, “And poor Sabrina. I can’t imagine what she’s going through all alone.”

“She’s put on a brave face.” Tissaia told her wondering how well acquainted they were.

“That’s Sabrina…” She sighed. “I’m Triss by the way.”

“Tissaia.” She said as they shook hands, “Do you live here with Yennefer?”

Triss laughed. “Heavens no. I live with my granddad at his cottage. He needs some help getting around and someone to regularly beat at chess. I rent the apartment above to Yennefer. I tried to tell her she could just stay there; no one else was using it. But she insists on paying rent.”

The florist rambled, divulging more information that was strictly necessary, but she had a kind warmth about her that made the trait endearing. Tissaia nodded along and smiled. “Right. And how would I get up to the flat?”

She asked to gently redirect the conversation. Triss turned a little sheepish, “Of course. You can follow me.”

Triss led her to behind the checkout counter and through a curtain of beads. To the left was a little alcove with a paper-strewn desk and a still-steaming mug of tea on top of a stack waiting for its owner to return. Then to the right was steep staircase with a door ajar at the top. Her guide pointed to the stairs, “You can just head on up. Oh, just a moment.”

She spun around and disappeared for a few seconds through the jangling beads then came back holding a bundle of lilacs wrapped in brown paper and presented them to her. “Would you mind taking these up to Yennefer? I give her the flowers that are about to expire. Lilacs are her favorites.”

Tissaia took another glance at the flowers that were a deep amethyst color, noticing that the petals were beginning to wilt and some their edges were browned though they were no less beautiful. She took the small bouquet, “No problem.”

“It was nice to meet you.” Triss chirped as Tissaia began to ascend the stairs. She smiled and nodded at her in acknowledgement and continued up, nearly every step creaking on her way. At the top, she found herself in a short hallway with three windows looking down to the street below and two doors opposite the windows, the first of which was cracked open. The detective peaked inside as she passed to see it coats hung and rain boots set on the ground inside. She moved on to the second door, raising her fist to knock sharply. The door swung open almost immediately revealing Yennefer appearing far more casual than she had last night. Her sultry lipstick and edgy leather jacket were gone; instead she wore a cream, vee-necked sweater that revealed much of her sternum and black leggings with her hair swept up into a loose ponytail. She grinned at Tissaia, looking sweet and yet speaking coquettishly, “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

Tissaia nearly forgot about the flowers she’d been holding and realized the insinuation of them. Her cheeks warmed against her will and she unceremoniously pushed them towards the woman. “Yes, here. Your landlady gave them to me to bring up for you.”

“Landlady, ha, I’m telling her you called her that.” She accepted the flowers, holding them under her nose and breathing in deeply. Her gaze stayed locked on Tissaia, the purple flowers reflecting in her eyes so her irises appeared to glow violet. “Thank you. Come on in.”

Wiping her boots on the doormat thoroughly, Tissaia followed her into the flat. The space wasn’t large, a studio with most of the amenities in the one room, but it had a vaulted ceiling with wooden rafters that gave it the appearance it was bigger than it was. Straight ahead was the kitchen with appliances that looked like they dated back to the 60’s and a wood burning stove that dated back even further. Something popped and sizzled in a skillet on the stove filling the air with a spicy, meaty smell the enticed her stomach. The window above the sink was cracked open so she could hear the rain coming down harder now. A round kitchen table with only two chairs sat in front of the kitchen; from the table Yennefer grabbed a glass vase that held a dried-out bouquet and chucked the old flowers in the bin to replace it with the lilacs.

A little lounge was denoted in the middle of the room by a Persian rug and a mustard-colored loveseat facing a modest, flat screen TV that looked to be the newest thing in the apartment. Then in the farthest space from the door was the bedroom area. The red and purple comforter with a mandala design looked like it had just been hastily pulled up and a mismatch of pillows were heaped against the headboard. The only area sectioned off by walls in the apartment was a next to the bed, which was presumably the bathroom though the door was shut. The dwelling was simple and worn but also clean and cozy.

“There you are. I was wondering when you’d show up.” Yennefer said suddenly however she wasn’t speaking to Tissaia. A gray tabby cat was squeezing through the open window, impossibly balancing on the narrow divider in the sink. Its pink nose was sniffing the air and the cat started towards the stovetop. Yennefer nabbed her before she got too far and set her on the ground, the cat making an incensed trilling sound at being thwarted.

“Not yet.” Yennefer chided the animal.

“What’s your cat’s name?” Tissaia stepped more into the room.

The cat blinked its yellow-green eyes at Tissaia, startled to find a stranger there. The other woman side stepped the cat and went to the refrigerator. “She’s called Anica. She isn’t mine. Just a freeloader that comes around for a meal and to take refuge from the weather when she wants to.”

She took out of bottle of milk from the icebox and selected a saucer from the drying rack next to the sink, pouring the milk onto it and setting it down in front of the cat who immediately started lapping at the creamy, white drink. Yennefer watched for a moment before turning back to Tissaia, “Would you like a bit of breakfast? I’m just about to have mine.”

“I-“ Tissaia would usually decline but she felt her stomach pull with hunger. In her eagerness to get to the flat she hadn’t thought to stop anywhere for food. “That would be wonderful actually.”

“Please sit.” Yennefer indicated to a spot at the table. “Coffee or tea? I’ve just made this.”

She held up a French press that had been sitting behind her on the counter, nearly full of inky black coffee. “Coffee please.”

Yennefer moved fluidly about the kitchen. Producing coffee mugs, dropping plump sausage links onto plates, uncovering a platter of scones, setting a pot of gooseberry jam onto the table with the bottle of milk and jar of honey for their coffee all while expertly avoiding the cat and her swishing tail. Tissaia spoke as she tipped some of the milk into her coffee, “Thank you. For breakfast and for letting me help.”

With everything arranged, Yennefer joined Tissaia at the table, “Well, Sabrina trusts you in some regard. She’s always had sound judgment.”

“How do you know Sabrina if you don’t mind my asking?”

“We went to primary and secondary school together.” Yennefer said slathering some red jam onto her scone. “I went away when I was 14 but we reconnected at Aretuza University.”

“I attended Aretuza as well.” Tissaia accepted the jam and butter knife Yennefer passed to her when she was through. “Some years before you of course.”

“Not so many years.” She smiled teasingly.

Tissaia returned with her own conceding grin, “I suppose not. Is that where you met Istredd as well?”

Yennefer shook her head, “No, we met at the group home we both lived in. I was new and he helped me acclimate. You could say we were childhood sweethearts. But he left for university a year before me and we decided we made better friends. When I got to Aretuza, I think he had some hope we’d pick up where we left off but I couldn’t be the person he wanted… I introduce him to Sabrina and they hit it off right away. The three of us became inseparable.”

Tissaia listened carefully, surprised at how much the younger woman shared with her. It must have shown on her face because Yennefer continued, “I’m telling you this for the sake of transparency. Stregobor took me off the case once they zeroed in on Istredd, said I couldn’t be impartial. Maybe that’s true, but no less impartial than he is. I don’t trust him to uncover the truth.”

At her home office, DI DeVries would provide a stern but fair lecture on following the orders of your superior officers and how Yennefer was too close to the investigation. Her relationship with Istredd and Sabrina affected her judgment and her emotions were coloring her perceptions. Tissaia had the words ready in her mind but she couldn’t tell them to the other woman. Not when she had come to Sodden Hill under the guise of diplomatic goodwill but in truth she was dangerously close to crossing the line and interfering with the investigation just by sitting there with Yennefer, if the line hadn’t been crossed already. She couldn’t deny hoping to find a different perpetrator than Malcolm Istredd for the sake of Sabrina whose life had been marred with a tragedy. She desperately wanted to spare her another one. Then there was her motivation she could scarcely admit to herself, one that was nearly impossible. Tissaia wished for closure, that in solving the recent disappearances they would finally know what had happened to Philippa.

The women were staring at each other as if making a silent pact. Tissaia could feel something between them, tendrils of something like fate weaving and tying them together in this. She cleared her throat, “Do you have any files I can look over?”

Yennefer licked her fingers free of the tart gooseberry jam and stood from the table, making her way into the living room area. She knelt next to the coffee table, her hands reaching under it and tugging on something. When she retracted her hands, the detective sergeant held two files she had wedged underneath as a hiding spot. Passing them to Tissaia, she sat back down, “This is what I’ve managed to keep on Operation Last Rose before I was removed from the case. I haven’t been able to get anything since they executed the search warrants on Istredd’s house.”

Tissaia sensed that just because Yennefer didn’t have the information didn’t mean that would stop her from surreptitiously obtaining it. She flipped open the top file, which was thinner than the other. Inside was the initial missing persons report for the first missing girl Abigail Johnson. Her parents called the police when they’d woken up one morning to find she hadn’t come home after attending a party the prior evening. The party hadn’t been too far from her house, just enough distance that she had ridden her bike over. The party hadn’t been large either, more a small gathering around a bonfire in field. Tissaia could imagine the investigation starting off slow with the usual reassurances to the parents that she’d probably missed her curfew and would be back home when she gathered her courage. But then her bicycle had been discovered tossed into some brush with a broken reflector like she had taken a fall and everything took a turn for the worse. The crime scene unit had been called in and searches arranged but it was as if she’d vanished into thin air.

Interviews with the kids who had been with her last at the party had not revealed much either. No drama or fights occurred and while the teenagers reluctantly admitted they’d been drinking beer that night they all consistently claimed Abigail had stopped drinking earlier to make it home by midnight. And with shame, they recounted they’d been too buzzed on Coors Light and toasted marshmallows to think about stopping her from leaving the party alone at 11:30. Tissaia took a bite of sausage, the fennel, garlic, and kick of red pepper exploding deliciously in her mouth. She finished chewing before she asked, “Did Abigail have a boyfriend?”

“Not that I could find.” Yennefer said with her mug up by her lips. “Her best friend Rebecca mentioned a crush but her parents disapproved of her dating.”

“Just because her parents disapprove doesn’t mean she’d listen.” Tissaia pointed out.

“I tracked down that angle as far as it could go. Robbie Dunn, the crush, he’s got a torch for Chastity McClure. I can tell you who she likes as well if you want.” She ticked up an eyebrow.

“That seems irrelevant.” The detective inspector declined with a smirk, accepting that Yennefer had been thorough in her inspection. Shutting the first folder and setting it aside, she began to look through the second thicker file. “Any connections between the two girls?”

“Besides going to the same school, not much. They had History together but that’s more a statistically probability given the size of the school. I hadn’t found any other overlap besides that. Abby was on the debate team. Poppy played tennis. Abby played piano for the school choir. Poppy had a part-time job as a cashier at the grocery store. They were acquainted but almost everyone in town has passing knowledge of one another.”

Tissaia bobbed her head along in understanding, simultaneously reading a similar report of Poppy Toms’ parents waking up to find their daughter hadn’t returned home from a night out in Cintra. “Any evidence Poppy made it out to Cintra?”

“The bus driver doesn’t remember picking anyone up that night.” She shook her head in the negative. “Poppy and a friend were supposed to see a musician play at a café, a girl with an acoustic guitar act they followed on social media. The friend had to cancel last minute but Poppy was still determined to go. I checked with the venue and no one in attendance saw her there so if she made it out of town another way she never made it to her destination.”

“And there was no where else she would have been going?”

“By all accounts, Poppy was a big fan. Everyone said it seemed unlikely that she would miss the show.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Eric Lafferty, bit of a tosser but has an air tight alibi of being four hours away at a football camp.” Yennefer topped off her coffee and then topped off Tissaia’s as well without asking.

Then there were the witness statements of people seeing Istredd pick up Poppy Toms that night not far from The White Wolf. A cook taking out the trash had seen a brunette girl that he identified as Poppy getting into a dark blue sedan, a boy name Dara Wilson walking home from his math tutor saw the same thing though neither could confirm who the driver of the car was. There was a statement from Geralt who hadn’t seen Istredd pick up the missing girl but could place him chatting outside the pub with Cahir Emreis that night. The most damning statement came from Mr. Emreis who had been able to definitively say he witnessed Poppy get into a navy Honda Accord being driven by Malcolm Istredd. He’d even been able to identify the car from a spyglass decal on the back of the car. Tissaia was rereading the report when she noticed the name at the bottom of the page where the officer would sign it. DS Vengerberg was written on the line and something with clicked in her mind.

“You found the witness who had seen Poppy with Istredd. The investigation isn’t stopping you from seeing Sabrina. It’s she who isn’t speaking with you.” Tissaia said in revelation. Yennefer had been leaning down and crumbling the rest of her sausage on the ground for the cat to eat. She tensed but came back up and said sardonically, “You should be a detective.”

“You did the right thing. Making the report.” Tissaia told her gently.

“I know.” Yennefer said shortly, then looked away to hide the sadness seeping into her eyes. “Sabrina doesn’t think that though and I don’t really blame her. Triss tried to patch things up between us but that only resulted in her getting angry with Triss as well.”

Tissaia began to ask delicately, “Why didn’t he come forward and say he picked up the girl?”

Yennefer’s eyes found hers with an angry flash but she managed to keep her cool and answered, “He did. Or says he did. Istredd says he called into the station and told a uniform at a desk that he’d been with Poppy that night. The constable said he would pass the information along to the detectives but it seems it was some how lost. No officer has come forward to say they were the one who took the call and Istredd can’t remember the name of the officer who he spoke with.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Or rather inconvenient.” Yennefer challenged back.

“Do you think that a message like that could have been lost? That an officer wouldn’t remember speaking with him?”

“If it was one of Stregobor’s moronic disciples, then yes. He’s got his teeth sunk into Istredd and the _Brotherhood_ wouldn’t do anything to oppose that.” Her voice dripped with distain. Tissaia didn’t want to believe someone on the force would neglect an investigation like that but from her brief time in town she got the sense that things around DCI Stregobor tended to smell fishy.

She shuffled through the papers in search of anything she missed, “All of this is pretty thin for a warrant. How’d he even manage to obtain one?”

“The Chief Inspector has friends in high places.” Yennefer huffed. “And honestly I think they were getting desperate.”

Suddenly Tissaia’s phone began ringing, startling the both of them. She looked down and saw how was calling. “It’s Sabrina.”

“Don’t tell her where you are.” Yennefer warned. She nodded and slid her thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Tissaia, it’s me.” Sabrina’s small voice came in over the line. “They’ve arranged to take me in for questioning. Would- would you be there?”

“Of course I will.” Tissaia responded earnestly. “What time?”

“They want me in at 2 o’clock.” She sounded nervous.

“I’ll come around and pick you up at a quarter ‘til.”

She exhaled gratefully. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you then.” She tried to say soothingly.

“I’ll see you then.” Sabrina repeated to her a bit mechanically then the phone connection clicked off.

Tissaia looked to Yennefer who had watched her intently during the brief conversation. She filled her in, “They’re bringing Sabrina in for questioning. She wants me to go in with her.”

“Good.” Yennefer stood from her seat, taking their empty plates to the sink. She looked out the window saying mostly to herself again, “Good.”

“I should go.” Tissaia said abruptly when she noticed that the time was after 11. Vilgefortz would be waking soon if he wasn’t already. He’d need food and a bottle of aspirin after the night he had. “We can pick this up again?”

“Yes, I can give you my number.” Yennefer said dictating the digits for Tissaia. She then called the younger woman so she’d have her number as well. Tissaia drained the rest of her coffee then started for the door. Yennefer followed closely behind to see her off.

“Thank you again for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome. And thank you again.”

“For what?” Tissaia asked confused.

“The flowers.” Yennefer seemed to tease, nearly batting her eyelashes at her. Tissaia didn’t bother to correct her this time and smiled amusedly at her. The feeling of tendrils reaching out between them returned, that pull toward each other that was hard to name but felt like a little twist of destiny.

Finally Tissaia pulled herself out of the moment and said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Oh I’m sure we will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if updates take a while (work is such a drag) but I hope you all enjoyed this one. A little mystery, a little flirting over mystery ;)
> 
> As always, would love to hear what you think in the comments. Thanks for reading!


	6. I'll Take Your Head Off

When Tissaia returned to the house, Vilgefortz greeted her with waggling eyebrows and a sly grin at her impromptu meeting with the young detective sergeant. But when she threatened to withhold the aspirin she’d bought from the pharmacy and the breakfast sandwich and coffee she’d gotten from a café, he hastily changed his tune. She didn’t torment him for too long; he did look in a rather pathetic state with dark bags under his eyes and skin a little sallow from his night of revelry. He perked up after he had about half of his sandwich and some coffee in his stomach. Then Tissaia filled him in on what she learned from her morning, though leaving out any parts that may encourage him from alluding to anything beyond a professional relationship with Yennefer. He already had enough ideas in his head.

She didn’t share those alluring little moments with him but it didn’t stop her from thinking about them in brief time she had to herself before she needed to leave to pick up Sabrina. In between the solid facts of the case she gathered were more amorphous specifics- a violet gaze, full lips parting in a coy smile, the elegant slope of her exposed neck, the rough velvet lilt to her voice. Tissaia was intrigued by the young detective, finding her charming and clever, but as quickly as she had the thoughts she tried to dissipate them from her mind. Yennefer was a stranger with a lovely face and she couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, no matter how lovely the face was. She closed off those thoughts instead focusing on going over the evidence in head again and again, trying to put some order to them but there just weren’t enough threads to tie everything together yet.

And the threads that tied Istredd to the disappearance were spider web thin. Still he was the best lead having been the last to be seen with Poppy. If Tissaia were running the investigation, he would be under her scrutiny as well, though she wouldn’t have gone so far as to arrest him at this point. There was still too much to uncover, too many blanks to fill in. Her thoughts and questions followed her as she said goodbye to Vilgefortz who pouted at being left behind once again and she promised to be back in time to take him to dinner. The detective went to Sabrina’s to collect her but DC Neyd was already there, insisting she would drive them to the station. She climbed into the back of the police car with Sabrina who was sullen and withdrawn on the drive over. Tissaia wanted to reach out in some way but couldn’t find a way through her stony exterior. She simply left her alone to stare out the window with her hands firmly cradling her protruding belly.

Once at the station, the women were escorted through the hallways to an interrogation room. The bottom half of the walls were gray cinderblock and the top of them were a sickly, pea soup green. A stainless steel table sat under harsh, florescent lights that buzzed at an uncomfortable frequency that one could feel in their teeth. Tissaia frowned internally at the set up. Generally a family member, regardless of their relation to the victim or the suspected assailant, would be interviewed in a different environment. They would be taken to a room with soft lighting and a comfy couch with toys set up in a corner for children that came through, offering then a nonthreatening, safe space to talk. However the room they were relegated to had been designed to intimidate and demean. If Sabrina were rattled she didn’t show it, sitting primly in seat with her chin tilted up slightly in apparent defiance. Subconsciously, Tissaia leaned toward her in a defensive posture as she sat next to the other woman. DC Neyd sat in one of the chairs across from them and they stewed in the deliberate silence.

Suddenly the door flung open and Stregobor marched in with his head bent over an open file distractedly. When he looked up, he acted as if he were surprised to find the women waiting there for him, “Mrs. Istredd thank you for coming down to speak with us.”

His tone was overly gracious to which Sabrina’s only response was a vacant stare. The DCI spared a brief glance at Tissaia, addressing her with strained politeness. “Ah, DI DeVries, good to see you again.”

She nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile as he took the remaining seat next to the detective constable who had a pad of paper and pen poised and ready to take notes. Stregobor straightened the folder in front of him as he began, “You’re a teacher at the local school. Do you know either Poppy or Abigail, have them in class?”

“No, I never taught them. I teach Year 7 and they had already been through by the time I took the position.” Sabrina said. “I know of them but not personally.”

“And your husband? Does he know the girls?”

“Malcolm works at the library. He helps a lot of the high school students with research and university applications. I imagine he’d at least know of them as well.” She said evenly.

“So he likes working with teenage girls?” Stregobor prodded caustically.

“That isn’t what I said.” Sabrina glowered.

“Right.” Stregobor agreed, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling with condescension. “As you’re aware, we’ve been executing a search warrant at your home and we’ve taken your husband’s computer.”

“Yes.” She said the word as if trying to compress into as little space as possible.

Stregobor opened his folder to take out a packet of stapled pages. “Well we’ve discovered some things on the hard drive that we’ve deemed to be quite significant.”

“Like what, porn?” Sabrina asked incredulously, clearly unimpressed.

“Let’s just say it was age specific.” He pushed the papers over to her that turned out to be a list of websites visited on the computer in question. Tissaia read along with Sabrina as she flipped through the pages. The list had websites for Smithsonian articles on archaeological digs of ancient ruins and sites for baby name suggestions and searches for cricket scores but interspersed throughout were porn sites. Those entries were highlighted with a bright yellow marker, drawing attention to words within the web addresses like _teen sluts_ and _dirty girls_ , that didn’t look particularly good in this light. Tissaia could hear a nearly imperceptible whimper from blonde as her eyes scanned the pages a little frantically. It looked like her face was going to crumple in despair but the emotion was pushed down, promptly replaced with resolve as she shoved the packet back across the table.

“So he was looking at porn. Don’t you detective?” Sabrina pointed at the offending papers, her words coming out in a frustrated jumble, “This doesn’t- this is fantasy. Who hasn’t watched porn? Who? I know I have. Does that make me a murderer detective?”

Coral stopped the fluid movement of her writing and spoke up gently, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Sabrina asked tersely.

“Say what you think you should to protect him.”

“I’m not.” The blonde turned to Tissaia imploringly, “Tissaia, can you say something, please?”

“I’m running this investigation.” Stregobor asserted and diligently ignored Tissaia. “Please direct all your answers toward me.”

Sabrina still looked to her and Tissaia was torn between telling the detective chief inspector to piss off and keeping decorum. Her cooler head prevailed as she softly told the other woman in attempts to keep the peace, “What they mean is if you can think of anything that might help, now is the time to speak up.”

Her mouth dropped open and her eyebrows furrowed at her words. Then in an instance her expression towards Tissaia hardened and she turned away to coldly stare ahead, “I have nothing further to say.”

“Abigail Johnson. The night she went missing Istredd says he was at a pub in Cintra, but computer records show he was looking at some of this stuff here.” He shoved the evidence back towards her but she wouldn’t look down at it. “Can you explain that?”

Sabrina clenched her jaw and said nothing. DI DeVries could see the circumstantial evidence mounting against him. Last seen with one of the missing girls, questionable pornographic material on his personal computer, lying on his whereabouts, and access to both of the girls through his work, things were adding up poorly for him. On the other hand, Istredd could have just had the misfortune of running across Poppy, his pornographic interests were common enough, it could be a simple mix up of dates to account for his lying, and working at a library was hardly a smoking gun. His guilt and innocence was a swinging pendulum in her mind. When Sabrina continued to remain silent, Stregobor went on patronizingly, “Whatever happens, Sabrina, you’ve got your baby on the way. Now you need to think about your lives together. Your life without Malcolm.”

Tears welled up in her eyes but she shook her head in rejection of the notion and repeated herself, “I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”

Stregobor gathered up the papers back into the file with a heavy-handed sigh, “Very well, Mrs. Istredd. DC Neyd will see to you getting home.”

He departed first with Sabrina immediately standing to leave as well, not giving Tissaia the chance to say anything to her. Once back out in hallway, Coral went to go pull the car around and Sabrina mumbled something about the baby pressing on her bladder and needing to find a bathroom. A passing officer helped them locate one and Sabrina hurried in, leaving Tissaia waiting in the corridor.

“How did it go?” A dulcet voice came from her left and Tissaia looked over with a start to see Yennefer standing there. Her hair was still in the loose, messy ponytail but she wore a black blazer, an endearing size too large like her other one from the previous day, and jeans tucked into riding boots. Tissaia found she couldn’t help but notice these details about Yennefer that she would usually not take the time to note, but it all contributed to the careless beauty she possessed that Tissaia felt drawn to.

She refocused on Yennefer’s question, keeping her voice low when she spoke, “Not that well actually.”

“What did he have?” The detective sergeant pressed, her eyes glancing around to see if anyone noticed they were talking.

“Porn from his home computer was ‘age specific’ as Stregobor put it.” Tissaia looked about too but it appeared everyone busily milled about, unaware of their conversation.

Yennefer scoffed. “If that’s all he’s got than over half the men in town would be suspects.”

“Half the men weren’t the last to be seen with Poppy or had exposure to both girls from their work.” Tissaia reminded her. “Predators often put themselves into positions were they can work with their victims. He can groom his victims but also the community so he appears to be an unimpeachable member of society.”

“So he’s a predator now?” The younger woman asked darkly.

“It’s a hypothetical.” She clarified. “I agree the evidence is all circumstantial but with an emotional case like this one, if it were put in front of a jury right now, I wouldn’t like his odds.”

“But there is reasonable doubt.” She half inquired, half declared.

“Yes.” Tissaia acquiesced.

“Then we’ve got to keep investigating.” Yennefer pressed emphatically. Before Tissaia could respond the door to the restroom opened and the Sabrina stepped out, blinking at the sight of Yennefer standing there with Tissaia. A scowl rapidly overtook her face, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tissaia heard Yennefer swear under her breath, _fuck_ , but she remained calm as she said glibly, “I work here, remember?”

The blonde huffed, looking back and forth between them trying to figure out their connection. Finally she landed on glaring at Tissaia, demanding, “Do you know her?”

From the tone of her voice Tissaia knew what she how she should respond: blatantly lie. Fortunately she was well practiced in the art of deception from her job. Playing it cool, she offered a half-truth, “I saw her at the pub last night but otherwise no. Should I know her?”

Sabrina continued to eye the pair suspiciously but she settled on seething venomously towards Yennefer, “Stay away the hell away from me. Away from us.”

She clutched her round stomach protectively and Yennefer flinched at the gesture. There was tautness in her frame, like she wanted to reach out, take a step forward, or protest the ironclad command doled out from her angry friend, but she flexed her hands and stayed her ground. Tissaia touched Sabrina’s elbow, drawing her sharp attention, “DC Neyd will have the car at the back. We should get you back to the house.”

Without any further prompting, Sabrina spun on her heel and stalked away. The detective inspector tries to meet Yennefer’s eyes to send her an apologetic look but the other woman had also already taken off in the opposite direction. Tissaia disregarded her instinct to pursue her instead dutifully following after Sabrina to make it into the back of the car without further incident. If the car ride to the station had been a little tense, then the trip back was suffocating with it. As the car drove up to the house more reporters had flocked to the scene having caught wind that the suspect’s wife had been brought in for interview. Tissaia rushed to help Sabrina out of the car, putting her arm around her while two uniformed officers had to keep the crowd at bay. They hollered their questions but with all of them speaking at once it was such a solid raucous sound so one couldn’t decipher what was being said.

Upon entering the foyer, Sabrina made a straight shot up the stairs, leaving Tissaia behind. The detective waited a moment to give the other woman some space to collect herself. She leaned against the banister, tiredly rubbing her forehead and counting to ten before steadily walking up after her. She found Sabrina in the front bedroom peeking through the antiqued lace curtains at the mayhem below. The blonde didn’t stop her surveillance but she must have heard Tissaia come in as she began to speak bitterly, “You see those bastards out there. Twenty, thirty journalists all wanting a piece of us. This is how innocent people get treated.”

She made sure the curtains were firmly closed then turned back to Tissaia. “They’re painting him out to be a murderer.”

“It’s been a tiring day.” Tissaia said, feeling inept at being able to provide any comfort for her. She took a tentative step forward. “I think you should have a rest. I can run you a bath or I can make-“

“Offer me tea, and I’ll take your head off.” Sabrina snapped. Then as if once that bit of ire had been released more came spewing from her mouth as she spoke harshly to Tissaia, “You were no use in there. Letting him say whatever he wanted. How could you just sit there and let him say those things?”

In that instant, Tissaia caught a memory of Philippa; the flash-bang of anger in her eyes and cutting tone of voice that made her chest burn. Philippa had tendency for volatility that when directed at you felt like a raging fire trying to consume you. Tissaia shook off the feeling and took and unsteady breath, “This isn’t my case. I told you Sabrina- I’m here to support you.”

Sabrina deflated at her words and dropped onto the edge of the bed. With her head bent, she asked timorously, “You think I’m kidding myself about Malcolm, don’t you?”

“No-“

“Don’t lie to me. I can see it written on your face.” She interrupted.

Tissaia shook her head and gingerly sat down next to her on the bed. “No, I don’t have any idea whether he’s guilty or not.”

“Well I do because I know him. I’ve lived with him, I’ve held him, he’s the father of my child and I know he’s not a man that hurts young girls.” Tears sprang to her eyes that she desperately tried to wipe away.

“I want to help you.” Tissaia cautiously slid her hand over top the one of Sabrina’s hands that sat limply in her lap. When the younger woman didn’t jerk away she continued. “I want to help but I can’t do that if I interfere with the investigation, especially where Stregobor is concerned. Just know it may not seem like it but I’m doing all I can.”

Sabrina sniffled a little then said after a moment, “I feel like this is all a bad dream. Like I’ll wake up and he’ll be here, standing in the doorway and smiling at me the way he always does.”

“I can’t understand what you're going through but-“ Tissaia thought of Yennefer and her resolute pursuit of the truth. “You’re not alone in this.”

Slowly, the other woman turned her hand upward to clasp Tissaia’s, accepting the simple gesture of support. They sat in silence then in the bleakness provided by the late afternoon. Eventually Sabrina exhaled heavily, “I think I will have that rest. Though I am hungry.”

“I could get you something.” Tissaia offered right away. “What would you like?”

“Chips.” She patted her stomach. “I’ve craved them all throughout the pregnancy. I always make sure I have some in the freeze.”

“No problem. Coming right up.” With a brief smile and last squeeze of her hand, the detective left her to relax in the bedroom while she went to the kitchen to get the snack sorted out. She rummaged through the freezer and found a frosty bag of chips. As she was reading the instructions on the packaging a voice behind her asked, “How is she?”

DC Neyd had come through the back and posted up against entrance to the kitchen, disinterested scrolling through her phone. Tissaia responded sarcastically, “Oh, she’s doing cartwheels.”

“Yeah, well.” Coral shrugged her comment off, seemingly unsympathetic toward Sabrina’s predicament.

“What?” Tissaia tossed the bag onto the counter. “She deserves to feel like shit?”

The red-haired woman only shrugged again then asked nonchalantly, “Did she tell you anything?”

Tissaia narrowed her gaze on her and pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek in irritation. She was fed up with the audacity of these people. The detective constable had been sent with instructions to discreetly collect information from Tissaia, though her clumsy attempt didn’t manage fool her. She whipped around and began aggressively looking for a baking sheet in the cabinets. “Yeah, she did actually. She knows where the girls’ bodies are. They were in on it together.”

She found a baking sheet and set it on the stove top harder than necessary then started pulling drawers open looking for aluminum foil. Tissaia went on heatedly, “You know, one of those weird sexual things. After they killed them, they shagged each other’s brains out.”

Coral’s broad cheeks flared a deeper pink as she bit back. “Professionally speaking, this is none of your business. One call, and I can have you thrown out of here.”

“Right fine.” Tissaia stopped her search and squared off with the other woman. “But you just remember this. Whatever that man she’s married to has done, and it might be nothing, _she_ has done nothing wrong.”

“You sure about that?” Coral asked challengingly, stepping further into her space.

“Yes.” She asserted absolutely not backing down.

“Because you knew her as a girl once upon a time?” She said with a sneer.

“No, because I’m good at my job.” With that, Tissaia turned back to her task. Forgoing the foil in frustration she dumped the frozen potato wedges onto the tray with a resounding clatter. She remembered Yennefer’s words from earlier and they set in her mind; _we’ve got to keep investigating._

-

That night, when sleep had at last taken over, Tissaia dreamed the same scene she had before returning to Sodden. The breeze on her face as they rode their bikes to the edge of town, walking through the hip high grass to the shady spot underneath the elder tree, the sun sparkling through the leaves and branches above them, sweet grins and sweeter kisses. Then like before all the warmth was sapped away from the afternoon. In this dream though Philippa abruptly sat up in a burst of anger, “God Tissaia, say something like that again and I’ll take your head off.”

She couldn’t remember what she had said to illicit the reaction but she heard the younger version of herself trying to explain, “I only meant-“

“I know what you meant and it’s not like that.” Philippa stood, brushing dirt and grass from her shorts. “I’ve got to go.”

“Philippa, wait.” She clambered up on her feet to follow.

“No, leave me alone, Tissaia.” Her best friend said coldly making her stop short. She watched as Philippa walked away from her with swelling dread. By the time Tissaia took one step forward, Philippa had somehow gotten half way across the field. In her next step, the other girl was nearly to the stonewall by the road and she knew that she would never be able to catch her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you enjoy this little mystery update. Laying out evidence is harder than I thought it would be, even with an existing template lol. Thanks for making it this far with me!
> 
> As always, would love to hear your thoughts and thanks for reading :)


	7. The Bus Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this chapter deals with racism and uses explicit language revolving that.

Bright sunlight greeted Tissaia in the morning contradicting the dreary mood she found herself in. She wanted the leaden haze of the gray clouds that had been stationed over Sodden Hill for the last couple of months to reflect how she felt and shield her from the harshness of the day. The sun stubbornly shone however giving everything hard out and deep contrasts that somehow irked the detective. Logically, Tissaia knew she was overly fixating on this minor inconvenience to avoid what truly bothered her. Stuck on the cases, worried for Sabrina, haunted by dreams of her past; all were situations that didn’t fit in her usually ordered life. She was out of sorts and only one thing could act as a balm in a time like this: a full English breakfast.

Kicking the rickety frame of the pullout couch, Tissaia awakened Vilgefortz and dragged him out of bed to go to The White Wolf. The pub had more patrons than from when the prior evening they’d been there with many dressed in football jerseys and some with a pint already in hand to prepare for the afternoon game time. Despite the match not starting for a couple hours, the atmosphere was getting a little rowdy in anticipation and maybe with some desperation for normalcy amid the disquiet that the disappearances had brought to the town. As Tissaia and Vilgefortz walked in they waved to Geralt, but he could only spare them a nod between the heads of the people gathered around him in search of a drink. The detectives managed to get a table by the bar but away from the televisions and excited clamor of most the other guests. A waitress swooped through to take their orders and then again with plates heaped with food. Sourdough toast, fried eggs, crispy bacon, sausages, baked beans, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms were perfectly buttery and rich like the home fry ups she would have at her Nan’s house on weekend visits.

The food helped to improve her mood but the sidelong glances from Aadesh as they ate were not. She could see his unwanted concerned for her. Tissaia knew he could see the dark circles she had under her eyes from her poor nights rest that she was trying to offset with the strong, black coffee she currently drank. Her partner poked as his eggs as he asked, “How long are you planning on staying in town?”

Setting her mug down she answered him measuredly, “I can’t leave yet. Sabrina still needs me.”

“So, you’re planning on staying until when? Until Istredd is charged with the murder? Until the trial?” Vilgefortz tried to reason with her. “There isn’t much you can do here.”

“You can head home whenever you’d like. I’m staying.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to leave.” He backtracked. “It just doesn’t seem like this will be ending anytime soon and I need to know that you know when to walk away.”

“I know. I know I can’t stay forever but I can’t go yet.” Tissaia pushed his shoulder gently, relieving the tension that had built between them, “In the meantime, I could use my partner.”

Vilgefortz grinned and shoved her back, “Yeah, well quit leaving me on that bleeding flower sofa for DS Vengerberg.”

“That was one morning and she’s prettier than you.” Tissaia cavalierly shrugged at his dramatics.

“Ha! So you admit she is pretty.” He declared as if he’d caught her red-handed.

“Prettier than you. That’s a relatively low bar.”

“Eat more beans. You’re still cross.”

Tissaia had a retort on the tip of her tongue but something pulled her attention, or rather a lack of something. The bar had suddenly become much quieter than it had been the moment before. She noticed people had turned toward the entrance, craning their necks for a look. She also turned to see what interested everyone and was perplexed to only find an unimpressive, frumpy-looking man had wandered in. The man was shortish with a ruddy complexion. He pulled off the knit cap he wore revealing a round, balding head as he staggered up to the bar. People stepped out of his way, some sniggering as they went. Geralt didn’t smile though as he squared off with him at bar. The man wouldn’t look him in the eye as he hoarsely demanded, “A pint of Pabst.”

“You’re not welcome in here Calvin.” Geralt crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m only here for a pint.” He said insistently, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, “I’ve got money.”

“Your money is no good here.” The bartender reiterated firmly, the muscles in his forearms agitatedly flexing. “You need to be on your way.”

The man named Calvin slammed a fist on the bar top, “Fucking nonsense! An honest bloke can’t get a drink at the local. Fucking criminal.”

Then he turned his outrage to the crowd of people that were watching the commotion he caused. He shook his finger at them and started hurling accusations, “Criminals, all of you! Someone has been up on my farm stealing my piglets! Two have been gone in the last month. I’ll find out which one of you has done it and burn you myself!”

One of the onlookers began to squeal like a pig and shouted back, “There he goes Cal, just ran out the back. Best chase after him.”

Laughter rose up and more mocking pig squeals erupted from the patrons and the man’s face reddened, “I’m watching you! I’ve got my eye on all of you!”

“You know you aren’t welcome in here.” At some point in his tirade, Yennefer had entered the bar. She stood by the door, her posture straight as an arrow and her voice dark when she addressed him. Tissaia didn’t fully understand what was happening but could see the distain Yennefer held for the man etched in her face. The feeling was mutually as Calvin’s lip curled in disgust at the sight of the younger woman. He growled, “Mind your own business, you stupid cow.”

“I think this is my business.” Yennefer said with dangerous calm. “Seems to me that you’re disturbing the peace.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” He sneered.

She took a couple steps forward and placed her hands on her hips, moving one of the front panels on her leather jacket out of the way to show the badge that hung around her neck and handcuffs attached to her hip, “Do you want to find out?”

He swiped at his nose with his thumb, “You think you’ve got power now, but you’ll only ever be a dirty, little half-caste to me.”

He said the slur as if it were a physical thing that he spat out of his mouth and it rolled across the floor for everyone to look at the ugliness. A greater hush fell over the room and people shifted uneasily. A chair scraped against the hardwood as Ren who had been blended in with a boisterous pack of drinkers abruptly stood, fists clenched at her sides. Geralt threw his bar towel down with a startling ‘thwack’. Tissaia herself found gripped the edge of the table, angry bile rising in the back of her throat at this stranger. Yennefer appeared the most unmoved out of everyone in the room. After a heavy pause, she slowly pulled back the other side of her jacket to reveal the gun holstered on her other hip. Her voice was still calm though it sliced through the air like a razor dragging slowly, painfully across skin. “Another word and you’ll be spending the night in lockup. Now get the **_hell out_**.”

Calvin stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and rocked back on the heels of his work boots. Finally, he ambled forward until nearly in front of Yennefer who remained stock still. He stumbled around her at the last moment, making displeased grunting noises as he walked out the door, leaving everyone to only stare at the detective sergeant. Her shoulder dropped slightly and her arms fell to her sides, her jacket neatly closing back around her figure. She cast a bored gaze about the room, “Show’s over folks. Remember to toss a coin to your bartender.”

Light chuckling could be heard around the pub as people went back to their pints and conversations were picked back up. Ren watched Yennefer expectantly, but she simply waved to the other woman who tilted her glass in her direction and lowered back into in seat. Yennefer tipped her head to Geralt and they shared a meaningful look. He resumed his tending to the patrons though and the dark-haired woman turned to start toward Tissaia and Vilgefortz’s table.

“Morning.” She greeted the pair, an eyebrow ticking up wryly, “Enjoying the local color?”

“I don’t know if enjoy is quite the word for it. What was that all about?” Tissaia asked.

“Calvin Boggs. Pig farmer. Town drunk.” Yennefer said briefly. “Not much else to tell.”

She tried to place the name from her childhood but didn’t recognize it. If he didn’t run a big farm or have kids close to her age, then she probably would not have known him. She noted to herself to ask her father if he knew of the man if she had the chance. From the scene that had unfolded minutes ago, Tissaia didn’t believe her overly succinct explanation of him. Her interaction with the man had been born from a torrid feud rooted in history, not the mere inconvenience of a heckling drunkard with evident penchant for bigotry. Whatever he provoked in Yennefer had faded or had been suppressed as she now stood cool, poised and apparently eyeing Tissaia’s toast. The inspector nudged her plate in Yennefer’s direction which was all the invitation the other woman needed to sit next to her and grab her last triangle of bread, taking a bite with an exuberant crunch. Aadesh leaned over his own breakfast as to protect it. Though he did offer her his sympathy as he said, “That was a bit of nasty business.”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” When Yennefer finished with the toast, she picked up a spare fork and speared a mushroom from her plate next, “Any plans after this?”

“Nothing.” Tissaia confirmed with a hint of eagerness.

“Feel like taking a little fieldtrip? I thought we’d go out to the bus stop where Istredd dropped off Poppy.” Yennefer suggested, stealing a tomato next.

“If he dropped her off there.” Vilgefortz added carelessly with a mouth full of egg. Yennefer looked at him sharply, her jaw twitched in annoyance at his statement. Tissaia kicked his shin under the table and he jumped in his seat, giving an indignant cry of pain.

“Sorry.” She apologized but sternly glared at him. Realizing his mistake, he at least had the decency to look a little contrite. Tissaia went on speaking to Yennefer, “Yes, it’d be good to get a better feel of the area.”

“Wonderful.” Yennefer said setting down her fork and pushing herself away from the table. “Ready to head out now?”

Tissaia nodded and took a final slip of her coffee. She turned to Vilgefortz as she stood, “You coming? Or would you like to go back to the couch?”

“I’m coming.” He muttered while hurriedly shoveling the rest of his sausage into mouth and simultaneously trying to finish his cup of coffee.

-

_Tissaia sat at the bus stop with Philippa, however they were not alone. It was Sunday after church and Tissaia had attended mass with Philippa and her family. Her parents didn’t attend church regularly, just usually on Easter and Christmas, but if she spent the night on Saturday with her best friend sometimes Tissaia would elect to tag along to keep her company and spend more time with her. She didn’t really prescribe to the preacher’s sermons, but the songs were nice and Tissaia would let her mind wander looking at the colorful stain-glass windows. After the service the adults would have a coffee hour that would inevitably extend longer than a single hour while the kids would go to play in the rec room in the basement. Philippa had decided they were too old for endless rounds of ping pong or Go Fish, so she’d gathered up a group of older teenagers to do something much more mature, which was apparently to hang out at the bus stop across from the First Church of St. Nilfgaard._

_Stephen and Johnathan mucked about in front of them, pretending to have a poorly executed karate fight or something that kicked up the dust and gravel around them. Rita stood off to the side and made a ridiculous giggling sound whenever they got too near to her. Lance leaned against the side of the bus port closest to Tissaia. He goaded his friends on, but he also kept glancing moony-eyed at her, which she was determined to ignore. Tissaia was only concerned with the feeling of Philippa’s shoulder brushing against hers as they sat closely together on the bench. Her friend on the other hand seemed to only care for watching the boys as she laughed at their antics and toyed with the end of her braid. The way Philippa looked at Johnathan with that gleam in her eyes made Tissaia feel sick to her stomach. It was reminiscent of the way she looked at Tissaia right before she would tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear and lean in for a kiss._

_She thought of taking her friend’s hand and holding it in front of everyone, declaring the carefully guarded secret between them. Philippa would be livid though. They hadn’t discussed their encounters for a lack of a better word but, in her gut, Tissaia knew they weren’t to be spoken about. Eventually, Tissaia settled on placing her hand next to Philippa’s on the bench and purposefully touching their pinky fingers together. Her tactic worked, momentarily. Philippa briefly peered at her with a smirk and that certain glow in her gaze, but she quickly pulled away. She got up, stretched a little and huffed, “God, could they take any longer in there. At this rate we’ll be here until next Sunday.”_

_“They’re probably fawning over Pastor Emreis.” Rita chimed in. “I know my mum is. I heard her yakking on the phone about how fit he is the other day.”_

_“Gross.” Stephen paused to make a disgusted face. With his foe distracted, Johnathan took the opportunity to slap his stomach, knocking the air out of him and making him double over. Johnathan held his arms up in victory to proclaim himself the apparent winner._

_“I don’t know. I think he quite handsome for a man of the cloth.” Philippa said mischievously. She always enjoyed saying scandalous things._

_“Ew,” Johnathan cringed now. “He’s old enough to be your father.”_

_“Dads can be hot too.” She said doubling down on her statement. “Like Tony Danza on Who’s the Boss.”_

_“Whatever. Can we please talk about anything besides this?” Johnathan whined._

_“We can talk about my party next weekend.” Stephen said excitedly. “My parents are going to be out of town visiting my aunt and my brother promised to sneak us a keg. It’s going to be wicked.”_

_“Nice dude.” Johnathan commended and they bumped fists. Stephen turned to the rest of the group, “You all are coming, right?”_

_Rita, Lance and Philippa readily agreed. When Tissaia didn’t say anything Lance looked down at her, asking hopefully, “What about you Tissaia? Will you be there?”_

_“I don’t know. Maybe.” She said evasively but the answer didn’t suit Philippa._

_“Come on Tiss, let your hair down once in a while.” She demanded playfully and Tissaia flushed a little, remembering what occurred when her friend had said those words to her before._

_She found herself grinning, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”_

“Not much out here is there?” Vilgefortz said as he squinted in the sunlight. Tissaia blinked out of her memory and watched her partner toe at some gravel in front of the bus stop. She’d driven the three of them out there, parking her car alongside of the road for the detectives to get out and start snooping around the barren area. Yennefer came to stand next to her, so their shoulders brushed together. Under her breath she asked, “Do you bring him along to just state the obvious?”

Tissaia pressed her lips to stop from smiling but Yennefer smiled smugly as if she could sense her smothered mirth. DI DeVries tried to not find it charming as she looked around at the surroundings, which as Aadesh had pointed out, was not much. The bus stop was in ill repair; the once red sign with the bus decal had faded to a rusty orange color and someone had graffitied ‘Sodden Hell’ on the port over the weather worn bench. The St. Nilfgaard church wasn’t right across the street from it, rather down the road a short distance, little closer to town and set farther back in a field with a gravel drive leading up to it. The white chapel looked like it had seen better days as well needing a fresh coat of paint. Then past the bus stop and out of town were fields and fences as far as the eye could see, looking like a picturesque postcard with the grass lushly green from the rain and puffy white clouds low in the blue sky.

“If- and I’m only saying if.” Vilgefortz clarified before going on. “If Istredd did have something to do with the missing girls, he’d have to have taken them somewhere. Did they find anything at the house?”

Yennefer took his question surprisingly well. “There’s no physical evidence at the house putting either of the girls there.”

“Did they find anything that would suggest he had another place to take them?” He queried.

“Nothing. No receipts for a storage locker. Nothing in his financials to suggest he had an apartment. No other properties to speak of.” Yennefer shook her head. “If he’s got a secret hideaway it’s well hidden, from myself included.”

Tissaia listened but also kept trying to remember where the road led to next. She almost asked Yennefer if she knew when her thought was derailed by a sleek, black car that had been driving toward the village and was breaking next to them. The detectives simultaneously turned to look as the car stopped and the window rolled down, revealing a familiar looking young man. He nodded toward Yennefer, “Detective Vengerberg, are you out here on police business?”

“Something like that.” She said walking toward the car. “Showing my new friends here the sights… Since you’re here though would you mind going over your statement with me again, Mr. Emreis?”

When Yennefer said his name, Tissaia realized how she knew the man. It was Cahir Emreis the prime witness for the night of Poppy’s disappearance but the way Tissaia remembered him he’d been a quiet, golden-haired boy about 10 or 11 years old, always looking tidy in his Sunday best to watch his father perform mass. Since becoming an adult, it looked like he retained his tidy appearance though his immaculately pomaded hair had darkened, and he’d lost the cherub cheeks of his youth. He looked a lot like his father now, handsome and angular, but his features were more delicate, and he lacked the energetic charisma that endeared the priest to his congregation. He nodded solemnly, “Of course, anything I can do to help.”

Both Tissaia and Vilgefortz edged closer to listen as she started questioning, an air of professionalism taking over her demeanor, “About what time would you say, you and Mr. Istredd were having a smoke outside The White Wolf?”

“Oh, I don’t smoke. Horrible, disgusting habit. I’d just bumped into him on my way out and we started talking.” Cahir corrected her politely.

“Right and about what time was that?” She asked again to get him back on track.

“It was around 6:00. I’d just finished my dinner at the pub.”

“What did you two talk about?”

He tilted his head in thought as if really trying to recall, “Nothing really. I’d asked after his wife. I know they are expecting. Then we talked about the weather, all the rain we’ve had. You know, the usual small talk.”

“How did Mr. Istredd seem? Was he behaving abnormally in anyway?” She pried.

“No, he seemed completely ordinary. Mentioned being a bit nervous about the baby coming. But a very nice bloke. I’d never expect him to be capable of anything like kidnapping, but I suppose that’s what they always say when stuff like this happens.” He commented.

“I suppose they do.” Yennefer acknowledged. “When did you see Poppy get in the car with Istredd?”

“I left to go to the pharmacy up the road to pick up a couple things. When I came out, I saw Istredd in his car at the opposite corner. He and the girl had a brief conversation then she got in the car and they drove off.” He rubbed his bottom lip as he recounted the events from that night.

“And about what time was that?”

“6:30 I’d say.”

“Anything else you can think of that stands out about that night?” She gave him the open-ended question. Tissaia noted she was good at interviewing. Sometimes newer detectives pushed too hard and step-on words, cutting off their subject before they had a chance to formulate their thought. But Yennefer was concise, keeping her question broad and simple, allowing the man to have the time and space to talk with an ease she didn’t often see.

“No, sorry. I wish I could tell you more.” He said regretfully.

“That’s alright, Mr. Emreis. You’ve been a big help.” Yennefer made an attempt at sounding grateful but Tissaia could hear an insincere flatness leak into her tone.

The detective inspector approached the car, coming to stand at Yennefer’s side as she butted in with her own personal question, “Do you mind my asking, did you know either of the girls?”

“Abigail attended our church with her family. Sometimes she filled in on the organ for mass when Mrs. Hatcher was under the weather. She was a good girl, well-behaved, which is uncommon these days. She was devoted, always wore a crucifix her grandmother gave her.” He spoke sadly reminiscent about her. “I’m sorry for what her family is going through.”

“Yes, it’s a terrible thing.” Tissaia agreed then pressed on wanting to get a better idea of both the girls, “And Poppy?”

“Can’t say I knew her, but I’ve heard the rumors around town.” He squirmed in his seat as if uncomfortable, his voice becoming low like he was telling a secret.

“Rumors?” She prompted.

“That she could be a bit wild. Boys, booze and the like. I don’t condone gossip of course.” His eyes flitted to his wristwatch then looked back up at the detectives. “Is there anything else? My father is expecting me.”

“Not at the moment. Thank you for your time.” Yennefer dismissed him with tight smile, and he nodded goodbye before continuing his journey. Tissaia watched the car drive off for a few seconds, thinking about what Cahir had said. They hadn’t learned any more than what she’d read in the report DS Vengerberg had made but she felt the picture becoming clearer. She shifted her eyes to Yennefer.

“Is it true? What he said about Poppy being wild?” She wondered.

“If you were to compare Poppy and Abigail, sure. But from what I can tell I wouldn’t say it went beyond normal teenage antics. She’s certainly tamer than I was in my day.” Yennefer said, disagreeing with the man’s assessment.

Vilgefortz piped up, “It could be she was planning on meeting someone out here and they had an encounter that went wrong.”

“It’s a possibility.” Yennefer concurred however she didn’t sound convinced. She stared off down the road to the empty pastures that extended around them. Catching her line of sight, Tissaia remembered her train of thought before their witness had driven up.

“There’s not much reason to be out here unless you were meeting with someone. Where does this road lead to, Yennefer?” She asked.

The younger detective paused, jamming her hands into her pockets and her brow furrowed slightly. Tissaia and Aadesh shared a confused look at the sudden change in her mood. Finally she answered, “Boggs’s pig farm is the next place down this road.”

“Boggs as in-” Vilgefortz’s sentence was interrupted by a loud bell sound coming from Yennefer’s phone. She took out the device from her jacket pocket and read the lit-up screen, her eyes widening.

“Shit.” She cursed. She kept staring at the cell phone, but her left hand flew down to wrap around Tissaia’s wrist, not so much surprising her with the sudden contact but with how cold her fingers were.

Tissaia asked alarmed, “What is it?”

Yennefer didn’t say anything, rather she tilted her phone towards Tissaia for her to read. Vilgefortz crept up behind them to peer at the screen as well but she barely noticed as she started to comprehend what it said. It was an alert for a news app, the headline reading: **Breaking News from Sodden Hill, Body of Young Woman Found Buried in Shallow Grave…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mystery abound! Hope everyone is sticking with me as we get more into it. And Yennefer touched Tissaia's wrist, if it were like in the 1700's that would easily be like third base. What more could you want ;)?
> 
> As always would love to hear your comment and thoughts!


	8. Marlboro Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some graphic description of a dead body in this chapter.

The cool grip around her wrist loosened and fell away as Yennefer swiped her thumb across the screen and the full story pulled up. The three detectives huddled around the phone and read the small black text underneath the bold headline:

_A local man was walking his dog this morning in nearby Brokilon Forest when the dog unearthed a gruesome discovery- a dead body not buried far beneath the underbrush. Our source confirms that the remains are that of a young woman though they have not been able to confirm whether they belong to either Abigail Johnson or Poppy Toms._

_Sodden Hill Police Department will not make an official statement about the discovery until the body has been properly identified and family has been informed._

_The man who found the remains was shaken by the incident, saying that from what he saw the corpse appeared to be in an advanced state of decomposition. Again, the police have no comment currently as to how long the body has been in the woods._

_We will continue to update the community as the investigation continues to unfold._

The brief article ended abruptly with a picture of an aerial view of the forest at the bottom of the page. Through the treetops you could see a white tent that had been erected to preserve what was left of the crime scene and protect it from prying eyes. Tissaia’s first thought was she had to get to the crime scene and find out if any new evidence had been uncovered with the body. The identity, cause of death, time of death- the questions created a familiar static as the inspector in her took over. Her thoughts narrowing and converging on the mystery at hand. Then her own phone chimed, breaking her concentration. She dug it out of her coat pocket and saw a text from Sabrina.

**DCI Stregobor is coming over now. Can you get here?**

She could practically feel the desperation compacted in between the words on her screen. _Can you get here?_ It came across as a plea and Tissaia knew she’d have to put her thoughts of the crime scene on hold for the time being. She announced, “Stregobor is heading to Sabrina. We’ve got to go.”

**On my way.**

She typed the quick message and hit send. Tissaia looked at her grim companions. Vilgefortz raked his fingers through his hair, worried lines scored across his forehead. Yennefer had stepped away from them. She’d turned to stare off down the road so Tissaia couldn’t see her face, but she could see the tautness in her shoulders and the determinedness in her angles. Wind picked up blowing through her black waves with gray clouds suddenly approaching on far off the horizon; the air surrounding them suddenly felt ionized.

She called gently, “Yennefer…”

“Yeah, let’s go.” She said brusquely as she spun around keeping her eyes averted to make a bee line for the car. Tissaia and Vilgefortz silently followed suit.

-

Tissaia sped back into town. Yennefer asked to be dropped off at a random corner to which Tissaia complied. Before she could drive off, the detective sergeant paused at the driver’s side window, bracing her arm against the top of the car. She looked down at Tissaia, meeting her gaze for the first time since the news broke. She had a gleam in her eyes, not happy but bright, like the keen stare of a wolf getting ready to take off after its prey. It was as if it were an ingrained instinct and Tissaia knew it well, felt the same desire to go on the hunt. Yennefer leaned in as she spoke, “I’m going to see what I can find out at the station.”

“You aren’t going out to Brokilon?” She asked.

“I won’t be able to get within 10 kilometers of the scene. Stregobor will have my badge the moment he finds out I was anywhere near there.” Yennefer explained. She then gave Tissaia an expectant look, “But you on the other hand…”

“I can handle it.” She promised readily, ignoring the strangled noise of protest Vilgefortz made. Yennefer ignored him too as her demeanor shifted, her shoulders drooped a little and her brow furrowed pensively. She licked her lip before she began, “When you see Sabrina, tell her…”

She let the rest of the sentence go unsaid. They both knew that Tissaia could not pass along any message to Sabrina and the rest of whatever she wanted to say would be pointless. Yennefer took deep breath and finished shortly, “Just contact me when you’re done.”

Tissaia didn’t get the chance to say anything before she pushed off the car and seemed to prowl down the sidewalk. The urge to join her itches in the back of her mind but for now she knows there would be information to be gleaned from the second interview with Stregobor. The detective chief inspector was not pleased to see them arrive at the safe house at the same time as he and DC Neyd. However, since Sabrina had asked for Tissaia he didn’t have any grounds to dispute her presence. He begrudgingly let the partners push through the frenzied reporters and file into the house with him and his detective constable.

There were no pleasantries or offers to make tea as the solemn group settled into the shabby living room. Tissaia took a spot next to Sabrina on the couch. The blonde woman had a blank expression on her face as if the whole affair bored her; the only indication she was affected was her hand continuously rubbing her stomach. Aadesh kept to the edge of the scene, his attendance already questionable, so he chose a wooden chair against the wall that seemed like it had been misplaced from the dining room. Stregobor sat in the armchair across from them with Coral standing guard just behind him. He leaned comfortably back into the over-stuffed cushions, waiting to speak with practiced fortitude. Tissaia knew the tactic, a mind game when interrogating a subject and whoever spoke first lost. Her anger swelled but she felt bound by the rules of the game as well and she was forced into silence as to not be seen as interfering.

Sabrina, unaware of the ploy, final shifted impatiently against the pilled fabric of the couch and asked, “Well, who is it? Have you found Abigail or Poppy?”

A tight, smug smile formed on Stregobor’s face and he took the time to smooth out his tie before he answered, “We aren’t prepared to say definitively but after our preliminary examination I’m certain the body is that of Abigail Johnson.”

“God rest her soul.” She uttered quietly after the news sunk in.

The DCI cleared his throat, “Right. Last time we spoke you said your husband only had passing knowledge of the girls.”

“Yes…”

“Would there be any reason for Abigail to be in his car?” He asked.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Sabrina shook her head.

“That’s what your husband said. Claimed that she’d never been in his car, but we’ve found out that wasn’t the truth.” Stregobor announced condescendingly.

“Well that must be some kind of mistake.” She stammered.

“Malcolm smokes Marlboro Lights, doesn’t he?”

“No,” Sabrina became emphatic. “No, he quit when we first got married.”

“Well seems your husband is determined to be a liar. We found a Marlboro cigarette end in his car and two of the same brand with the body caught in plastic.”

“Wh- What plastic?” The blonde asked confused.

“Abigail’s body was found wrapped up in plastic and bin bags. We’ve got a rush on the DNA. In a couple days it will come back, and I know it will be a match to Istredd.” DCI Stregobor said like he’d moved his knight across a chessboard and declared ‘checkmate’. From his haughty attitude, he clearly lacked the understanding that this wasn’t a game they were playing. A man’s life was at stake and he cruelly dangled it in front of his wife. Tissaia’s patience for this demonstration had run out as Sabrina turned to her with a tremulous waver in her voice, “No it can’t be. It won’t be. Tissaia…”

“You don’t have to speak to them.” She reassured her.

“DI DeVries you aren’t here as legal counsel for Mrs. Istredd.” Stregobor said.

She turned on him sharply, “You’re right. I’m not. Are you suggesting the she obtain counsel?”

Stregobor rubbed his thumb against his fingertips in irritation as he instantly realized his misstep, while Sabrina easily caught on to Tissaia’s guiding question. Her voice firmed, “I don’t want to go any further with this unless I have a lawyer present.”

His chest expanded as he sucked in an aggravated breath and he glared at Tissaia. She simply stared back unapologetic and unintimidated by his imperious scowl. Another bout of silence took over the room as the occupants sat stagnant and resentful of each other. In this round though, Stregobor was forced to secede his position. He said stiffly, “If you change your mind and think of something relevant please get in touch with your liaison officer.”

Then the senior officer stood, glancing between Tissaia and Vilgefortz, “Detectives.”

He said with deep, cold formality then departed briskly with Coral at his heels. Sabrina calmed as they left though she looked completely drained. Her blonde hair hung down around her face as she stared down seemingly at her unborn baby. Tissaia could only imagine what she was feeling, the joy of bring a child into the world tarnished with the horror she had been dragged into, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. But Tissaia had a chance to fix it.

“Sabrina.” She gingerly called to her.

“It can’t be. It’s impossible.” Sabrina said in flat disbelief.

Tissaia inched a little closer to her, “How about some tea? Vilgefortz?”

He jumped from his seat along the wall when his name was mentioned. The women turned to him as Tissaia introduced him, “This is my partner Aadesh.”

Then addressing him again, “Could you make us a cup please?”

Sabrina nodded in agreement with her, too in a daze to protest being handled like she had the other day. Vilgefortz readily obliged, “Of course.”

“Kitchen is back that way.” Tissaia pointed and gave him a grateful smile as he left with his assigned task. With her partner gone, she immediately refocused on Sabrina, lowering her voice with a little bit of urgency, “Sabrina, you remember what I said about wanting to help you?”

“Yes…”

“I’ve got to go.” Sabrina looked alarmed at Tissaia’s statement, but she rushed to explain, “I’m going out to the woodlands to have a look around. You see? Aadesh is a good man. He’ll sit with you while I’m gone if you’d like.”

The blonde seemed to follow her implications but as Tissaia stood she snatched her hand to stop her from leaving. She forced her words out like she was trying to cram too much meaning in a too short amount of time, “They don’t understand. Malcolm would never hurt anyone, especially a young girl like that. He knows. He knows what losing Philippa did to me, to my family. He wouldn’t do that to someone else. You understand.”

Tissaia squeezed her fingers, her voice suddenly coming out hoarse, “I do.”

They shared a look of understood heartache, feeling the terrible void in her chest of when someone was torn from your life callously and without warning. DI DeVries had seen the expression on many faces over her career but never had she been so keenly aware of how it tied to her own pain. All the years of compartmentalizing didn’t prepare her for confronting this and the careful order she’d created in mind that served her well had started to go off kilter. Sabrina released her hold on Tissaia’s hand, wordlessly giving her blessing for her to leave. With her purpose renewed, she turned on her heel to make a hurried exit.

Softly closing the door to the living room, Tissaia crossed the short distance to the front entrance, had her hand on the doorknob ready to twist but a small sound down the narrow hall gave her pause. She looked to see Vilgefortz had stepped out of the kitchen and caught her about to make her escape. She could have kept going, pushed her way out the door and her partner would not follow her. He’d let her go however the wariness in his gaze made her hesitate and pull back. She turned to face him fully, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing down to scrape her boot against the oak floor. The grandfather hall in the clock ticked loudly waiting for either of them to speak. Finally, Vilgefortz asked, “So you’re just going to sneak out?”

“It gives you plausible deniability.” Tissaia walked closer to him so she could keep her voice down, “I don’t want to you to get dragged down with me in this.”

“Dragged down with you? Do you hear yourself Tissaia?” He asked earnestly. She sighed, her hand coming up to rub at her forehead, but she listened while he continued, “I think you’re getting too close to this.”

“What I am supposed to do? Just sit by and do nothing while an innocent man gets accused of murder?”

“He doesn’t look innocent.” He retorted.

“I don’t care how it looks. Something doesn’t feel right about it.” Tissaia argued, “The man was on the brink of starting his own family. I haven’t heard one bad word against him since we’ve arrived. Why would he start taking and killing girls?”

“That’s how it works, Tissaia. You know that’s how it works. A completely normal chap and then one day he snaps. The urge could have been inside him for years before he decided to act on it.” Vilgefortz reminded her with gentle frustration. She knew he was technically right, but it didn’t stop the trusted churning in her stomach that told her he wasn’t right this time. The clock filled the silence between them with the plodding ticking of the pendulum swinging back and forth.

“I have to do this.” She implored him.

His toughened manner ebbed as he said resignedly, “Be careful. Be smart.”

Tissaia felt a rush of relief. She mouthed _thank you_ as she backed away from him, back to the door, back to the whirling machinations in her mind that propelled her out to Brokilon Forest.

-

The trek back to her car was easy. Only a few people, most likely nosy neighbors, loitered in pairs outside the gate probably with gossip on their tongues. The rabid reporters had dispersed, having pursued DCI Stregobor back to the police station since he was more apt to talk, practically guaranteed to talk to spin his narrative. A fine mist fell from the sky in lieu of rain, the moisture pearling on her trench coat and in her hair as Tissaia made her way down the graveled shoulder of the road. She shoved her hands into her pockets and bent her head down until she could take refuge in her car.

The detective inspector had to pull a U-turn to get her car pointed in the right direction to start her drive north out of town. It was about a fifteen-minute ride out to the small woods with only the drone of the tires against the pavement to fill in the stillness though Tissaia’s thoughts were anything but still. The encounter with Stregobor agitated her, the whole thing being a scare tactic in her opinion. Until the DNA results came back from the lab there was no telling where the cigarette butts originated from and to assert that they’d come from Istredd’s car was in the very least premature verging on irresponsible. The angry buzzing of her thoughts were facts and feelings haphazardly mixed so she could scarcely focus on one or the other. If Stregobor went onto the scene with his preconceived notions, then Tissaia must execute her examination with a clear head and no expectations. Taking a deep breath, Tissaia emptied her mind as the scenery of hills and fields passing by began to give way to spindly spruces and pines until the trees reached up on either side of the road, as if the forest was a looming fortress with the pointed conifers like dark spires against the gray sky. The temperature of the air amongst the trees was cooler and her windshield fogged up at the sudden shift. Tissaia leaned forward and drove carefully around any bend, turning on the wipers to clear away the persistent mist. Finally she saw a patrol car parked on the side of the road next to a turn off that lead into the forest. There were traffic cones blocking the route and an officer in a bright yellow vest stepped out of his car as she pulled up to him. “You can’t be out here ma’am.”

Relying on confidence and the hope that Stregobor didn’t run a tight ship, Tissaia took out her credentials, “I’m here to assist DCI Stregobor.”

The young officer looked from her ID then back to her a few times, considering her statement. She remained collected, arching her brow at him in a way that could be interpreted as impatience. It did the trick as he looked a bit cowed, handed back her ID and stuttered out, “Of course. The grave site is about a kilometer up the path. I’ll radio to let him know you’re on the way.”

Tissaia said thanks and he went to remove one of the cones so she could drive through. The hard-packed dirt road wound up a hill, her sedan rocking uncertainly on the rough terrain. Then on a flat stretch more patrol cars appeared signifying she’d arrived at her destination. She parked at the end of the row of cars and stepped out into the cool, dampness of the woods; the air smelling sweetly of moist earth, of pine and of future rain. Walking up to the next guard, he simply nodded at her in greeting and lifted the white and blue police tape to let her pass. She stepped off the trail onto the bedding of loose soil, moss and dried pine needles. Twigs snapped under her feet as she maneuvered through the trees that started to space out to make a clearing where a white tent stood. There was another barrier of tape around the tent with some uniformed officers searching through the brush of the area outside it. Within the cordoned off area, crime scene technicians wore white hazard suits, purple gloves, and surgical masks to keep the immediate area as uncontaminated as possible. They all moved around each other like in the synchronized dance of bees working in their hive.

Tissaia managed to catch the eye of a tech who was posted at a temporary table with some field equipment scattered on it. He looked up from the laptop he’d been typing at as she asked, “Find anything interesting?”

He removed his mask to expose a confused face. She held us her badge for him to see, “DI Tissaia DeVries.”

“Thanedd?” He questioned, looking skeptical that the big city cop had any business out here.

She gave him a winsome grin, “Absconded for the weekend.”

The man paused but became indifferent to the reason of her presence as he explained, “The interesting stuff has already been sent to the lab. We’re just tidying up.”

“What stuff?”

“A fag end they got very excited about and of course the body taken for autopsy.” He supplied.

“Who found the body?” She inquired to keep him talking.

“Old man walking his dog, same old story. The dog did most of the digging for us. It’s not very deep, less than a half meter down.”

She wished she had made it out to the scene before the corpse had been removed, “What state was it in?”

“The dog? Traumatized. It’s his first dead human.” He said with morbid humor in the way people who worked closely with death often did. She gave him a courteous smile and he went on to answer her question correctly. “She’s been down there for a while. Burst open, so there were plenty of insects. There’s photos.”

He indicated to a folder on the desk, which she took as an invitation to look at them. She took out a stack of large glossy pictures, the first were indistinct, the body concealed by a plastic sheet and garbage bags, the bundle still laid in the ground. As the images proceeded, they became more graphic. The plastic pulled back further and further in each shot so you could see reddened and blackened skin, maggots laying claim to the deformed body. Then there were close ups and showing the black discoloring wasn’t from decomposition, rather charring. Tissaia noted, “She’s been burned.”

“By the looks of it, yeah.” The technician said distantly, having returned to whatever task he was doing on his computer.

“Well, there goes the killer’s DNA.” She mumbled to herself, but the man responded dryly.

“It’s probably why he did it.”

Tissaia hummed in agreement and put the photos back. She looked around thoughtfully before she asked, “Any indication of how the perpetrator would have gotten the body up here?”

“Nothing obvious. No ATV tracks, footprints or the like. The ground’s too soft to hold anything like that and considering how long she’s been in the ground if there were any they’d be long gone by now. Plenty of foot traffic this way between hunters and hikers.” He pointed back out towards the road. “Most likely scenario, he’d have come in from over there and carried her to the burial site. There is nothing to show she was dragged.”

She nodded along with him. It wasn’t terribly far to the road but to carry deadweight for that distance would require a healthy, strong individual. Tissaia wanted to look at more of the surrounding area. With a parting smile she said, “Thanks for your help.”

Then the detective plotted a course around the police tape, taking measured steps and carefully searching the forest floor for some discrepancy. After making a couple loops around, it seemed there was nothing to be found, though she kept circling out until then she was just heading further into the woods. They were peaceful and quiet, with only an occasional caw from blackbirds in the distance and the sound of her own steps crunching over the brush. Roaming through the trees pulled Tissaia into memories, remembering how she’d often wandered and played in a place just like this one.

_“Philippa!” Tissaia called out for the hundredth time. “Philippa stop goofing off, we’re going to be late for supper!”_

_Her voice echoed back to her but otherwise there was silence. She huffed and continued to stomp through the glen near her home in search of her friend. They had been on a walk, idly chatting, when Philippa suddenly exclaimed that they were to play hide and seek, something they hadn’t done in many years but it was the odd, spontaneous kind of thing she’d become accustomed to in regards to Philippa. She’d taken off into the trees for Tissaia to pursue her, but she had yet to find any trace of the other girl. Exasperated, she called again, “Philippa!”_

_“Rraahr!” A roar came unexpectedly from behind her and Tissaia yelped as she was tackled onto the ground; Philippa’s laughter bubbling around them as they fell onto a bed of leaves._

_“Jesus Phil, you gave me a heart attack.” Tissaia wriggled away from her and tossed a handful of leaves at her. Her laughter stopped and jaw dropped in surprise at the wet foliaged hitting her face, but she was quick to retaliate with her own handful of leaves. It devolved into an all-out war as the best friends giggled and threw heaps of leaves at one another for a time. Their battle ended when Philippa launched herself at Tissaia once again, this time with their lips messily knocking together and Tissaia melted under the touch. They were well practiced in kissing now, the lips moved in an easy dance that they knew well. Like Philippa knew when she sucked on Tissaia’s lower lip it would make her moan deeply and Tissaia knew if she nipped at Philippa’s tongue it would make her press her body harder against her, seeking something more that neither of them had figured out yet. Her pulse quickened though not out of fear this time. Eventually they parted, panting. Tissaia said regretfully, “We really should head back.”_

_Philippa gazed down at her with an impish sparkle in her eye but finally agreed, “Alright. We don’t want to be late for Mrs. DeVries famous pot roast.”_

_The girls clambered up, their hair mussed and clothing damp with debris from the underbrush clinging to them. They laughed more at the state they were in and did their best to wipe away the muck on them. Philippa linked their arms together and they started the walk back to Tissaia’s house. As they went Philippa asked, “Are you excited for Stephen’s party tomorrow?”_

_“I suppose.” Tissaia shrugged._

_“I suppose.” Philippa said back mockingly. She continued emphatically, “This is like our first proper party with beer and boys, Tiss. Can’t you muster up anymore enthusiasm than that? Lance seemed awfully keen on you being there.”_

_“I told you, I don’t fancy Lance.” She said in firm reply._

_“And I told you it doesn’t matter if you don’t fancy him.” Philippa rolled her eyes. “You really should take an interest in someone Tissaia otherwise people will talk.”_

_Tissaia stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowed, “What do you mean people will talk?”_

_“You know.” The other girl tilted her head to the side and spoke meaningfully, “What we do is okay for now, I mean when we’re young, but it’s wrong. Pastor Emreis talks about it in church.”_

_“Wrong?”_

_“Yeah, wrong. You know, like, it’s a sin.” She said the words so casually, like they didn’t leave Tissaia’s heart in tatters. She couldn’t comprehend that the light, giddy feeling that warmed her stomach when they kissed was in anyway wrong, especially when it felt like it was the thing she had been waiting for all her life. If Philippa noticed she was upset, then she didn’t say anything, instead she started to drag Tissaia along, “Anyways, I don’t really care for Johnathan anymore either. Both he and Stephen are so immature.”_

_Tissaia found herself asking dully, “Who do you care for?”_

Something cold and wet touched her hand and she jerked it away with a start. Looking down, Tissaia discovered a border collie at her side, its tail wagging merrily at her. She smiled bemusedly, her fingers reaching back out to scratch behind its ears, “Hullo.”

“Maxine!” A man’s voice hollered, and the dog perked up. She darted away around huge uprooted elm, then dashed back a few moments later with her owner right behind her. The collie returned to Tissaia for more attention. This time she knelt next the dog who squirmed with excitement and tried to lick her face. The man, decked out in a raincoat and galoshes, gruffly ordered, “Enough of that Maxie.”

“She’s alright.” Tissaia avoided having her chin licked and the dog calmed down enough for her to be petted. “Big dog walking area, these woods?”

“Aye, everyone comes here.” He then corrected himself, “Or they did before…”

He trailed off, looking in the direction that Tissaia had come from. The detective glanced around to get her bearings. She’d gotten lost in thought and had stopped paying attention to where she was going. The forest had thinned out and she was nearly on the edge of it, a few more meters and she’d have gotten to an open pasture. From where she stood now, Tissaia could just make out the tent marking the crime scene but she had to really look for it. It was odd for the body to have been buried in such an active area and for it to have gone undiscovered for so long. Other inconsistency about the scene and the senior investigating officer’s theory of events arose that she needed to account for.

“Anyway, the dogs love it.” He finished lamely.

“I’m sure.” Her phone pinged for a text interrupting them. Tissaia stood up straight and Maxine took off to sniff around once more. She pulled out her phone, her heart skipping a beat for reasons better not explore at seeing that Yennefer had sent her a message.

**Can you meet at my apartment in 20 minutes?**

Her thumbs tapped out a quick response.

**I’ll be there.**

“Have a nice rest of your walk.” Tissaia waved at the man and dog who had already continued on their way and she hurriedly made her way out of the forest to meet with the detective sergeant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had planned to write Yennefer in more, but alas, here we are. Maybe I should mark this as a slow burn? I don't know. Anyways, here is some more mystery.
> 
> As always, would love to hear your thoughts, feelings, comments <3


	9. Unpleasant Business

“Come in.” Yennefer said, opening the door wide enough for her to step through. Tissaia had gone straight up to the apartment with just a wave to Triss who had been discussing different potting soils with a young couple. Everything looked the same as from her first visit except the lilacs on her kitchen table appeared more wilted than before. “You’ve come from Brokilon?”

“Yes, how-“ Tissaia began to ask but saw Yennefer pointedly look down. She followed her gaze to her boots where mud and pine needles had caked to the soles of them. In her haste she hadn’t realized that she that she’d been trailing in a mess into the flat.

She grinned apologetically and said, “You should be a detective.”

Yennefer smirked in return. As the Tissaia leaned down to remove her shoes, the younger detective said dismissively, “Don’t worry about them. Just sit and tell me about the woods. I want to know everything.”

Despite feeling self-conscious about the dirt on her boots, she moved into the room and sat at the round table once again. Yennefer didn’t join her immediately. She passed into the kitchen, bending over to scoop up an empty saucer by the refrigerator, the only sign that the cat Anica had already came and went. After depositing the dish in the sink, she put the kettle on the stove and leaned against the counter with the heels of her palms resting on it and facing out to hear Tissaia make her report. The detective inspector methodically told of her trip to the woods. First how far she had to drive to the turn off, the dense feeling of the trees around her and how well-worn the path was. Then she spoke of the clearing, which at the time have been a flurry of activity but if the officers, technicians, and crime scene tape were removed it would have been a peaceful resting place. All the while Yennefer didn’t interrupt; she just silently went about making a strong black tea for them. She sat down with the brew as Tissaia told her of the conversation she had with the crime scene tech- how the body had been carried out there, that it had been buried some time ago and had been burned. And Yennefer listened intently, sipping her plain tea without milk or honey.

Tissaia finished her chronicles with the run in she had with the dog and her master walking nearby. Yennefer raised an eyebrow at that, “Someone was out there with another dog?”

“Apparently it’s a popular area to walk.” She confirmed. “Do you know the last time that area had been searched?”

“I wasn’t involved in coordinating the search effort.” Yennefer shook her head. “I’d have to ask around… Seems odd though that she hadn’t been discovered before now.”

Tissaia swallowed a mouthful of tea, “I had the same thought.”

“I spoke with the medical examiner performing the autopsy. He said that from the insect activity she’d been in the ground for 3 weeks.” The detective sergeant bit her thumb nail obviously hung up on the contradiction that the forensics presented but couldn’t account for it.

“Did the ME say anything else?”

“Not much, he wasn’t finished with his examination. He’d told me she had been burned. But superficially, like he set the fire but put it out before too much damage had been done internally.” She informed her. “He’ll give me the full report tomorrow.”

“He will?” She asked surprised.

“Dr. Pike has a bit of a crush.” Yennefer smiled and shrugged. A disapproving look must have crossed Tissaia’s face because the younger woman’s smile deepened with amusement as she continued suggestively, “Don’t worry. It’s not a tit for tat kind of thing.”

“Right,” Tissaia asked wryly. “And did your paramour say anything about the cigarettes found?”

“No, the ends had to be sent out to the city for testing.” As quickly as her mirth had come, it was sapped away as she said tensely, “We’ll have to wait.”

“Sabrina said Malcolm had quit smoking. Would they even belong to him?” Tissaia asked with an inkling of hope. Yennefer didn’t respond verbally, rather she stood up and went to open a kitchen drawer from which she produced a pack of Marlboro Lights. She sat back down placing the pack between them on the table. Tissaia could see the pack had been opened, the corners crushed from being jammed away in the drawer. She arched her eyebrow for explanation, “You smoke Marlboro Lights?”

“No.” Yennefer shook her head, sounding grave, “Mal left them here so Sabrina wouldn’t find them. He’d been stressed out about the baby coming and started sneaking them here and there.”

The revelation sunk the hope in her gut. She asked slowly, “Do you think they could be his?”

“Schrodinger’s Cats.” She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

“Sorry?”

“Do you remember learning about the experiment in school?” Yennefer asked.

“Vaguely.” Tissaia nodded.

“Hypothetically, they put a cat into a box with poison and seal the box.” She rested her elbows on the table as she tried to summarize her thoughts, “The cat either eats the poison or doesn’t. Until you open the box you don’t know if the cat is alive or dead, so in theory the observer could posit before the box is opened it’s both at the same time.”

“So, they are and are not at the same time?” Tissaia asked, not quite understanding the metaphor she was going for.

“No, it’s absurd, that is Schrodinger’s point. Both can’t be true. Reality isn’t driven by the conscious observer.” Yennefer ran her finger around the rim of her mug, “That is to say, whatever I think means fuck all until the box is opened.”

The detective inspector scoffed humorlessly, “So we wait.”

“We wait. 2 days.” She said as if setting the countdown clock. Yennefer was right; there was no point in speculating on the outcome of the DNA test. Their investigation had to go on regardless of what lay at the end of it and they had less than 48 hours now to make their case. Tissaia eyed the white and gold pack and a long-suppressed craving started to grow, a tightness in her throat she knew could be soothed by a sweet rush of nicotine. She picked them up, flipping open the lid to find that a cheap, gas station lighter was stored there amongst the remaining cigarettes.

“Do you mind?” Tissaia held up the Marlboros in question. Yennefer gestured for her to go ahead. She withdrew a cigarette and placed it between her lips. It took a few tries of flicking the lighter for the flame to catch to light the end. The embers glowed that pleasing orange hue as she pulled the hazy heat into her lungs, the tobacco smooth and dark like black licorice. Turning her head, she blew the smoke away from Yennefer. When Tissaia looked back to her, the younger woman appeared to be watching her with rapt attention, her eye nearly glowing like the lit end of her cigarette. It created a different burning inside Tissaia. She stared back openly, taking another long drag of her cigarette. It would be easy to hold on to the moment, to let the fire they hadn’t spoken of spread within her and Yennefer. Their conversation could turn to different topics, find a way out of the somberness to a different intimacy. Though as she observed Yennefer contemplate perhaps similar thoughts as her own, her gaze unwavering and utterly captivating, Tissaia considered that their discussion as it was held as much interest as the potential one that could be had. Trying to unravel a mystery together, watching Yennefer think and starting to learn how her mind worked held its own intimacy.

Tissaia repressed where she desired for her thoughts to lead and forced herself to concentrate on entwining themselves together in the mystery. She tapped ashes into her nearly empty teacup, “What do you make of the body being only partially burned?”

Yennefer licked her lower lip and rested back in her chair. She crossed her arms, straightened out her legs and crossed them at the ankles while she took a moment to think, “It could be he’s a novice. He didn’t know how to keep the body lit so he panicked and buried it.”

“Could be.” Tissaia agreed, blowing the blue smoke to the side again. Yennefer didn’t seem finished, so she waited for her to continue.

“Or maybe…” Her eyes slipped shut as if she were imagining the scene in her mind. “Maybe he set fire to the body. He thought he could stand back, toss a match and it would be over. But the flames consume her, he can’t stand to see her burn. He rushes over to put the fire out.”

“Why?”

“He cares for her. So, he takes her to a beautiful spot in the forest, maybe a place where he knew peace. He takes her there to lay her to rest.” The detective sergeant tugged at her hair. “Or maybe I’m going nowhere with this.”

“No, you’re good.” She dropped the last of her cigarette into her tea. “You’ve got a good instinct.”

That intent stare flashed in her eyes briefly but looked away falling on the lilacs, “Still, doesn’t do much to help find the killer. It doesn’t fit with…”

Her sentence trailed off. Tissaia leaned in, “Doesn’t fit with what?”

“Calvin Boggs.” She said the name with the same flat disgust she showed for him in The White Wolf earlier today. “He wouldn’t have such sentimentality.”

“You suspect him?” Remembering her mood at the bus stop when the man had come up, she asked. “On what evidence?”

“He would have reason to be driving out on that road. Practically the only person to have reason to drive out there.”

“You’ll need more than that.”

“Abigail disappeared on a Saturday.” She ground her words out. “Most Saturdays, Boggs drives to Aedirn to gamble and get pissed. He comes back late. To get back from Aedirn he’d have to take the road Abigail disappeared from. Around the same time she would have been walking down it.”

“More compelling but still circumstantial.” She pointed out but it sparked her attention.

The younger woman pressed forward urgently, speaking ominously, “I know he’s capable of hurting young girls.”

Tissaia peered at Yennefer who radiated frustration with her jaw clenched. She nearly asked how she would know that, but she suddenly appeared closed off or liable to lash out. Instead she asked carefully, “Have you interviewed him?”

“He wouldn’t speak with me even if I tried. I’m not welcome on the farm.”

Tissaia wanted to note to Yennefer that she seemed to have a knack for wearing out her welcome but then she noticed the time on the clock above the stove and saw it was passed dinnertime, “Shit, it’s getting late. I should go back and check on Sabrina. See that she gets something to eat.”

The inspector stood and took her cup to the sink, rinsing away the tea and ash. A refreshing, cool breeze came from the cracked window and she realized how warm her cheeks had become sitting with Yennefer. The botanist shop was in the last row of buildings before the town gave way back to the pastures. Beyond the fire escape right outside the slightly warped glass, there was a greenhouse for the store and then shadowed hills as the daylight rapidly faded. The rain clouds had yet to recede making it appear darker than the hour would suggest.

“There’s a Chinese restaurant on Redland Avenue.” Yennefer said as Tissaia looked under the sink for the bin to toss her soggy cigarette end.

“I know it.”

“Sabrina likes the Sweet and Sour Shrimp from there.” She stared at the flowers again. Her hand came up for her fingertips to gently brush against the petals, some fell from their stems onto the table. The other woman seemed far away now and Tissaia wished she could stay. She wanted to stay and get Chinese food with Yennefer and talk endlessly with her into the night- about the cases, about her history with Boggs, about the things they didn’t say, about anything if they could just keep talking. She came up behind Yennefer, raising her hand to softly place it on her shoulder. She didn’t tense under the touch. If anything, the muscles beneath her palm loosened. Seconds went by until Tissaia finally said, “You’re doing all you can.”

“We will talk again tomorrow?” The younger detective inquired.

“Yes, call me when you have the final autopsy.” Her hand fell back to her side.

“I will.” She rose from her seat and walked with Tissaia to the door where they said quick goodbyes with lingering glances. Then DI DeVries hurried out to find supper.

-

If Sabrina was suspicious that Tissaia knew her Chinese food order, she didn’t say anything. The pregnant woman simply mechanically ate the food put in front of her then claimed she was tired and ready for bed. From speaking with Vilgefortz after they left, it seemed Sabrina had been rather unresponsive since Tissaia had departed. She felt guilty for leaving her but didn’t regret her excursion to Brokilon and what she had learned there. She did her best to give Vilgefortz the highlights when they returned to the house, but she felt tired too and soon excused herself upstairs.

She took a lengthy shower. The hot water was not quite enough to rinse away the stress of the day but she felt a little better, her mind more honed as she sat at the vanity in her old bedroom. But what or rather who occupied her thoughts didn’t necessarily pertain to evidence or the investigation. Tissaia thought of long, black curls falling around a beautiful but serious face. And though she’d most often seen her face with this tense and pensive expression, the detective more remembered the reflection of lilac in her dark gaze and her lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Then there was the brilliant mind at work. Yennefer was a promising detective, determined and intelligent, probably encumberingly so at times. However, with all her capability there came a certain disregard toward authority or in the very least her immediate superior and impending recklessness. Whether her impertinence came from youth or more likely her nature, Tissaia hadn’t deciphered yet. There was still so much mystery to the detective sergeant for her to uncover.

She picked up her cellphone on the table in front of her. Ignoring a worried sounding text from Fringilla, Tissaia opened her contacts and scrolled down to the very bottom, the last name on the list being Yennefer Vengerberg. Her thumb hovered over it, considered pressing it and calling the younger woman so she could ask her all the questions that she had. But she stopped herself, instead scrolling back up and pressing on the little phone icon next to a different name. It rang a few times before the line engaged and a deep voice greeted her with surprise.

“Hello dear. Fancy hearing from you this morning.”

“Hi Dad.” Tissaia smiled for despite their distance hearing her father’s voice comforted in some nostalgic way, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I’ve been up.” He assured her. Though it was night in Sodden Hill in Australia the morning had already broken. “How’s the cottage?”

“It’s good. Everything is just the same.”

“Have you found anything worth keeping?” Her father asked, reminding her of the guise under which she came to her childhood home and that she hadn’t even thought to start sorting through the odds and ends stuffed in the attic.

“Ah, no.” Tissaia stuttered a little. “I’ve not really had the chance. I’ve been keeping Sabrina Glevissig company. You remember her?”

“Oh yes, I’ve been following along in the Daily Mail. A shame what that family has had to go through.” He tutted sympathetically. “Do you suppose the husband’s done it? The news makes it out like he has.”

“I don’t suppose anything at this point.” She said diplomatically through a spasm of irritation. “I’m just there to support her.”

“That’s very kind of you, dear. How’s the weather? Still raining?” Her father switched to a benign subject in his typical manner. They never could manage to speak on a topic of great substance for long. Tissaia told him of the dreary weather and he told her of the enduring sunshine, that he and her stepmother were planning a trip to the beach later in the afternoon. More banal conversation followed; what she had for dinner, how Aadesh faired, how horrible the internet connection was in Australia, which came up at least once in every phone call they had. She did her best to play the interested daughter, but she felt impatient to talk about what prompted her to call. Finally, her father mentioned that he missed watching the football game at the pub and Tissaia seized her chance.

“There was an incident in the pub the today where a drunk had to be kicked out. A man by the name of Calvin Boggs.” She said nonchalantly. “Did you know him?”

“I know of him. A dreadful man from what I recall.” He said with disapproval.

“Dreadful how?”

“It’s unpleasant business.” He evaded her question but she persisted.

“I need to know.” Tissaia said in a moment of honesty, “It might be relevant.”

Her father didn’t ask what it would be relevant to. He didn’t say anything for a moment before he sighed heavily. “You’ve witnessed him being a drunk, but he’s gets far worse than that. He owns the pig farm just north of town.”

She made a noise of recognition and he went on, “He married a woman, Deirdre I think her name was, who had a baby before they married and then they had a few more children. I remember seeing the wife out with the kids at the market sometimes. It was obvious oldest girl had a different father from her complexion, he was Indian, I think.”

Tissaia listened intently as she realized who this story was about. “They kept to themselves for the most part, up on the farm. I think that was why no one realized what was going on for so long.”

“What was going on?” Her voice came out strained.

“Boggs. He’d been… mistreating his stepdaughter.” He said somberly.

“How?” Molten ire flowed in her veins and coiled in her stomach. Her mind instantly reaching to the worst things she had seen on the job.

“There was a lot of gossip about it. But it sounded like he forced her into hard labor on the farm, smacked her around, and I heard when Child Protective Services came, he was making her sleep in the barn with the pigs.”

“That’s horrendous.” Tissaia could barely think straight with the images that now plagued her. “How didn’t I hear about this?”

“You were in Thanedd when it happened. The girl, I can’t remember her name, was taken from their custody and put into the foster system. I think people just wanted to forget about it.”

“Was Boggs charged?” As far as Tissaia was concerned, he should have been put in hole and never let out and yet he was out galivanting around town spewing slurs with beer on his breath.

“I think he spent a few months in jail and had to pay a fine. But it was so long ago, I don’t remember.” She was incensed that he’d gotten off with such a light sentence. By her estimate he should have been in prison for closer to ten years. Her father continued over the phone, “Like I said, it’s unpleasant business.”

“Right. Unpleasant…” She echoed. “It’s getting late here. I’m going to turn it.”

“Of course, dear. Have a good night.”

“Night.” Tissaia ended the call. She stared at the mirror in front of her; she looked angry, her mouth in a thin slant and brow crumpled severely. The detective looked away, trying to relax but the hot crawling feeling would not relent. Her dad may have forgotten who the abused girl was, but she knew. Calvin Boggs was Yennefer’s stepfather. With the new information, she began to work him into the investigation. Out on an isolated farm, opportunity to grab the girls, and capable of hurting children- the man made his way to the top of Tissaia’s suspect list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got an alternative suspect, we've got some pining, we've got Shoulder Touch™
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. I love hearing your thoughts :)
> 
> P.S. Apologies to Mr. Schrodinger for bastardizing his quantum theory paradox.


	10. Ace of Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much harder than it should have been, lol.

For Tissaia, the next morning went by uncharacteristically uninterrupted. She didn’t hear from Sabrina, though she understandably would perhaps want to be alone after the accusations DCI Stregobor had hurled yesterday. And Yennefer had sent a text saying she would not be able to meet until after she finished work later in the day.

So she waited with the atmosphere in the household verging on tense. While Vilgefortz had let her leave for grave site yesterday, her partner still clearly had some reservations about her being involved in the investigation. Their conversations were stilted, and he could not quite conceal the glazed worried look in his eyes when they met with hers. They avoided speaking, instead watching the television for any updates but so far the news outlets just rehashed the report with all the old facts from previous casts. It was not that she didn’t want to talk to Vilgefortz more in depth about her conversation with Yennefer and how the younger detective so thoroughly occupied her thoughts. He was her partner and had acted as her confidante many times throughout their friendship, it felt unnatural to keep things from him. But something told her to hold back. What she really wanted was to head out to Bogg’s farm and ask him some uncomfortable questions, but if Aadesh knew the sordid history between Yennefer and the man, he would draw the line. He would definitely qualify it as ‘stepping on toes’ as he’d warned about before they had even set off. She did not want to let her partner’s warranted pragmatism to stop her.

When Vilgefortz went out to get sandwiches for their lunch, Tissaia guiltily felt a bit of relief and she suddenly wanted another cigarette. In college she’d picked up the bad habit, when she was young and a touch reckless herself, but it had been nearly a decade since she’d craved the enthralling tobacco. Feeling restlessly, she opted for the only vice available to her. Tissaia reheated the last of the coffee from this morning and took it out to sit in the back garden. She brushed off dead leaves from a wrought iron chair at a matching table, the patio set that had once been white was coated with greyish-brown soot from years of sitting in the elements. The afternoon was cool and crisp, so the coffee steamed up in the air and onto her face when she tipped it up to lips. She wrapped her fingers around the hot mug to soak up its warmth. Looking out into the field behind her home, Tissaia took a deep, calming breath. In the distance, she could smell someone was burning yard waste, reminding her of the snap cold nights around a bonfire. She could practically hear the guffawing and squealing laughter of teenagers, feel the pressing waves of heat coming from the crackling flames, taste the pale wheat-flavor of warm beer and feel the first giddy blush of alcohols’ effect.

_“Stephen! God, watch where you’re going!” Philippa shoved the boy away from her. She and Tissaia were huddled together on one the benches surrounding the fire. Stephen had stumbled into the pair, spraying them with beer from his plastic cup. Philippa glared incensed at him but Tissaia just giggled, fruitlessly wiping at the Bud Light droplets on her denim jacket. Everything was funnier than it should be, the booze feeling foreign in her system but good, a strange combination of sluggish and ecstatic. However, the dopey smile on Tissaia’s face only partially came from the beer that was somehow too foamy and too flat at the same time. The fact that Philippa was ignoring the boys in favor of hanging off Tissaia had her grinning from ear to ear._

_The other girl turned her annoyed gaze to Tissaia, “What are you laughing at?”_

_“N-nothing.” Tissaia said, still trying to stifle her giggling._

_“God, you’re a light weight.” Philippa retorted but with a fond smile on her face now that left her feeling even more dazed. She was barely aware of their other friends sitting and standing around, cast in an orange glow and flickering shadows from the bonfire and anything that lay outside the ring of light fell into inky darkness. Smoke plumed up to black sky with pinprick stars expanding farther than you could imagine and somewhere Love is a Battlefield played on a boombox. It was the kind of night one could look back on with the gossamer veil of youth and nostalgia and be remembered as magical._

_“Alright you lot,” Stephen stood up on a bench to get everyone’s attention. “It’s time to really get this party started…”_

_He paused for dramatic effect, then announced, “We’re going to play 7 Minutes in Heaven.”_

_There was tittering laughter and some excited whooping from the group. Tissaia shifted in her seat and glanced to Philippa. She tilted forward and an excited gleam danced in her eyes like the firelight; anxiety suddenly crept through the pleasant fog in Tissaia’s mind. Johnathan shouted playfully back at him with a slight slur in his speech, “Where are we going to spin the bottle, dumbass?”_

_“We’ll play with these.” He pulled out a battered deck of cards from inside his jacket, clumsily he began sorting through the cards and explaining, “We’ll just use aces through sixes. A person will draw and whoever picks the number that adds to lucky number seven will go with them to the barn.”_

_Everyone moved into a tighter circle, filling up the benches and sitting on the grass in the empty spaces between. The atmosphere that had been raucously relaxed suddenly simmered with an eager tension as they quieted down, eyes flashing from one face to another as possibilities were considered. Tissaia put her mouth by Philippa’s ear and spoke lowly, “I don’t think I want to-“_

_“Well don’t think about it then, Tissaia.” Her friend cut her off and nudged her away a little. “Just do it.”_

_“But- “_

_“Seriously, Tiss.” She said with cutting annoyance. “Remember what I said. People will talk.”_

_The severity of her tone silenced Tissaia. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to listen to Stephen as he addressed the group again, “Since it’s my party I’ll go first.”_

_From the thinned-out deck he revealed the top card showing the two of clubs to the circle. The cards were only passed a few times before Kiera pulled the five of diamonds. Stephen grinned widely as she stood with a shy, though equally wide, grin and the little party exaggeratedly cheered them on. They took a torch to make the walk to the barn that could mostly be seen in silhouette, the orange light barely reaching the stout structure. While they were gone, the rest of the teenagers conjectured and joked about what was occurring only a mere 30 odd meters away from them. Discomfort chewed at Tissaia’s insides as she tried to maintain an outwardly calm exterior; to her dismay Philippa was not paying attention to her anymore. When their seven minutes ended, someone found a stick and banged on the keg, the metal clanging sounding echoing around them, calling Stephen and Kiera out of the barn. They returned with silly smiles and rosy cheeks. There was some subtle teasing, but the teens were mostly keen to move on and see if they would get a turn._

_They quickly returned to the game, passing the cards and pairing people off. Next Rita and Henry disappeared together returning in a similar state as Stephen and Kiera and then Johnathan and Aiden were forced to go to the barn despite their protests. They came back after only five minutes, appearing surly and making sure to walk a couple meters apart from one another. After the amusement of their embarrassment died down, Lance drew next pulling the six of spades. The deck slid from hand to hand, producing a two, five, three, three, six, each number filled Tissaia with more anxiety as it was not a match. Phillipa flipped over her card to show the four of diamonds, “Sorry Lance, it wasn’t meant to be.”_

_She blew him a sarcastic kiss and handed the cards to Tissaia. She could hardly stand to turn over the top card as if she knew what lay on the opposite side of the classic blue Bicycle Rider Back pattern. But nothing could stop her fate as she revealed the top card: ace of hearts. Everyone ‘oohed’ and Tissaia’s face burned while Lance smiled bashfully. She remained stock still until Philippa finally jostled her with an authoritative ‘go’ under her breath. Reluctantly she stood, offering Lance a tight smile that came off more like a grimace as he took the torch and they started across the field together. The white light beam swept across the dewy grass, the sound of the party receding away replaced with the quiet rustling of their movement. Tissaia shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as the air was much bluer and colder away from the fire. Lance slid open the barn door and let her slip into the crack of darkness first._

_He was right behind her with the light though it wasn’t strong enough to illuminate much. They could only seem the interior of the barn in pieces, some unused horse stalls, crisscrossed rafters with drooping spider webs, piles of sweet-smelling hay. Lance plopped down on a bale as he looked around, “A bit spooky in here, isn’t it?”_

_“A bit.” Tissaia agreed, sitting as far away as the bale would allow._

_“Are you having fun? At the party?” He asked._

_She nodded, keeping her hands at her sides and focusing on the prickly feeling of the straw on her palms. Her mind was like a vacuum. She couldn’t think of anything to fill in the silence and the harder she tried to more her thoughts were sucked away, leaving a desperate, alcohol dizzy void. One thought did keep floating up, she didn’t want to be there. Lance plucked at the tightly packed hay, “Are you- “_

_Whatever he was going to ask was cut off as Tissaia abruptly closed the distance between them unceremoniously pushing her lips onto his. As soon as she’d done it though, regret swelled in her chest. She tried to catch the sensation of kissing Philippa and there was a vague similarity- his mouth invitingly warm and lips surprisingly soft. Still the kiss fell flat. Lance felt too large against her, indelicate and wrong. She pulled away and looked at the boy who looked a little starstruck, “Wow.”_

_Nothing stirred in her. Hopelessly, she leaned in to try again but Lance put his hands on her shoulders keeping her back, “That was amazing Tissaia but… we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”_

_Tissaia blinked at him, “Wh- Why wouldn’t I want to?”_

_“I know you don’t like me like that and it’s okay.” He turned away from her, resting his arms on his knees, “I can see the way you look at… Well, I see the way you don’t look at me.”_

_“Lance I, I-“ Panic flooded her. She needed to deny it, come up with an excuse, anything besides the floundering sounds that issued from her mouth. Tissaia stopped though when Lance covered her hand with his bigger one. It was difficult to tell in the dim lighting, the torch resting on the ground by their feet, but he seemed to be looking at her kindly._

_“It’s alright. You can’t help who you like.” He added. “And I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise.”_

_Stunned, Tissaia studied the boy closer than she had in the past. She’d previously avoided him, not wanting to see the sweet adoration that she couldn’t return. She looked at his sandy curls and endearing smatter of freckles over his wide nose and his soft brown eyes and wished that his hand warmly covering hers meant something to her. But regrettably her heart didn’t race, her stomach didn’t flip, and her lips didn’t draw up into a vibrant smile the way they did when she was around Philippa. Feeling overwhelmed or maybe the beer loosened her lips, Tissaia found herself telling Lance, “I wish it were you. I wish that I did like you, like that. It would be so much easier.”_

_Lance nodded along with her. “Life isn’t easy, I guess… If you want when we head back, you can sit with me. We can say we don’t want to play anymore.”_

_It hadn’t occurred to her that she may be matched with someone else and she felt paralyzed at the thought of it all over again. She asked him uncertainly, “Won’t you want another turn?”_

_“Nah, I’m good.” He grinned freely at her. “I wouldn’t want to kiss anyone else.”_

_“You’re a good guy, Lance.” She said genuinely._

_“Yeah, maybe.” He lifted his hand from her to scratch shyly at his neck. “You know who isn’t a good guy? That H. H. Holmes dude.”_

_“You know about H. H. Holmes?” Tissaia perked up that he knew the American serial killer._

_“I saw you reading that book about him and I checked it out from the library.” He confessed. “I liked it. I think? It was, like, awful but fascinating.”_

_“Exactly.” Tissaia wiggled a little with eagerness to talk about it. Philippa turned her nose up at anything involving mysteries or serial killers. She could hear her friend in her head now- God it’s so morbid, Tissaia. So they talked, and while she was not attracted to Lance, their conversation was effortless, and she discovered she did like him at least as a friend. When they went back to the bonfire, Lance insisted for them both that they were done playing to a chorus of booing. He ignored them and Tissaia followed suit, feeling under his protection in a way as they sat on a flannel blanket a bit outside the circle. Tissaia caught Philippa’s eye, her friend staring at her with an unreadable expression though it seemed inexplicably dark. She tried not to think about it, instead keeping up with her conversation with Lance. And she really tried not to think about how it felt when Philippa and Johnathan returned from the barn covered in hay._

_Later that night, after they’d gone back to Tissaia’s house and were lying in bed in the melancholic navy of her room, Philippa suddenly propped herself up on an elbow and hovered over Tissaia. They held eye contact with one another in a tense stalemate until the girl above muttered, “It’s just a game, Tiss.”_

_And then pushed her lips harshly down onto Tissaia’s in a frenzied kiss. She returned the kiss with equal fervor, digging her fingers into Philippa’s back like she wanted to sink in and never let go. Or maybe it was more like she was trying to tear her apart._

Tissaia heard a car pull up in the driveway. Vilgefortz had returned with their lunch. She stood from her chair, tossing the dregs of her coffee into a bush before going back inside into the warm, dry kitchen. Rinsing out her mug in her sink, Tissaia wondered what Lance was doing these days. That night all those years ago he’d proven himself to be a good friend and shockingly perceptive for a teenage boy at the time. He continued to be Tissaia’s friend when a lot of people had given up on her. After Philippa disappeared, she’d withdrawn from her other classmates and in turn they left her alone. Lance would still sit with her at lunch sometimes though or partner with her for whatever biology project. She regretted losing touch with him now, regretted not appreciating his presence when he had been there, and she’d been too wrapped up in her own grief.

Vilgefortz waltzed in then with a paper bag, announcing proudly, “I’ve hunted and gathered.”

“Oh, you find my sandwich on a tuna melt tree?”

“It’s a shrub actually.” He sassed back and she grinned at him. He doled out the food at the kitchen counter as they forewent sitting down at the table instead eating hunched over on either side of the surface. Despite his cheerful greeting, the silence snuck back between them while they munched on their meal of sandwiches and crisps. When Aadesh finished his turkey and swiss, he brushed his hand together, dislodging any crumbs, and finally said, “So what is it you want to talk about?”

“What do you mean?” Tissaia asked after swallowing her diet coke.

“You’ve been quiet as a church mouse all morning.” He said with affectionate resignation, “And since you won’t listen to my sound voice of reason and not get any more involved, we might as well keep ourselves busy this afternoon.”

Tissaia took a moment to look at him, gratitude filling up in her eyes for her partner while he stood there looking smugly supportive. She rolled her soda can between her hands and started, “You remember Calvin Boggs?”

“The racist goat farmer?”

“Pig farmer.” Tissaia corrected.

“Right, the racist pig farmer. You think he could be a potential suspect?” Vilgefortz undoubtedly was remembering the tension at the bus stop when his name had come up. Tissaia nodded explaining the circumstantial evidence that Yennefer had told her the previous day though leaving out the fact that he was her stepfather. Whatever guilt she felt from the omission she was willing to overlook for the sake of _plausible deniability_. Her partner rubbed his goatee as she talked and after processing the new information he said, “It sounds like a lead. Are you sure Stregobor didn’t already rule him out?”

“He hasn’t.” Tissaia said firmly, stopping herself from outright criticizing how he was running the investigation. “So how would you feel about visiting a farm today?”

-

It hadn’t taken too much more to convince Vilgefortz to drive out to the pig farm to interview Boggs, the detective in him also curious about the man how had equal opportunity to kidnap either girl. They drove out passed the dismal bus stop and a few kilometers down the road until on the left an old wooden sign appeared. It was nearly illegible from age but from the faint carving and chips of paint miraculously clinging to the wood she could just make out the words ‘Happy Swine Homestead’ which was a grotesquely unsuitable name for the farm and the type of man that she knew owned it. Tissaia steered the car onto the dirt and gravel road that led them into the expanse of the countryside. They first came across a slanted, gray farmhouse but they went by because just beyond they could see a long white barn with mud caked-up its white sides. Calvin emerged from the metal paddock attached to the barn with a big plastic bucket. He stopped as he saw their car approaching, setting down his load and wiping his hands down the front of his brown work jacket.

The man looked like a typical farmer, his red-tipped ears sticking out from his beanie, rough stubble on his round cheeks, and worn-out galoshes that went up passed his knees. When Tissaia and Vilgefortz stepped out of the car, Boggs frowned, “Who the bloody hell are you?”

The detective inspector pulled out her badge as she approached him, “Mr. Boggs, I’m DI DeVries and this is my partner DI Vilgefortz. We’ve come to ask you a few questions.”

“About time they sent some one out here.” He groused though he cast a distrustful look in Aadesh’s direction and Tissaia could fathom a guess the kinds of thoughts he was having.

“Sorry?” She asked confused at his statement.

“It’s about time you lot got up here to see about my missing piglets.” He said like it was obvious. “I’ve had two go missing this month. From my best sow no less. You want a description?”

“I think we know what a pig looks like.” Vilgefortz chortled lightly.

“Right, you know what a Saddleback looks like? A Tamworth? A Gloucestershire Old Spots?”

“…I’m guessing the last one has spots?”

Calvin glared harder, snatched up his bucket and went into the barn. Tissaia shot Vilgefortz a warning look to which he shrugged in feigned innocence as the detectives followed him inside. The interior of the building had a low ceiling and the air felt moist and fetid from the bodies of the animals that occupied the barn. In the first few pens there were nursing mothers, beached sows lying strangely still despite the dozen or so piglets that roved around them, wriggling and trying to get their turn to eat. The noises were endless streams of energetic squeals from the younger and displeased grunts from the older beasts. Tissaia froze for a moment, only able to think that the man tossing feed into the troughs had kept a young girl in these conditions. An image of a young Yennefer bunched up in with the pigs, her black hair unkempt and dull and her dark eyes tired but still full of righteous anger that she could do nothing about. Her own anger reared its head, tightening in her throat and making her vision swim with red.

The farmer went on unaware of her ire, “When someone takes my pigs, it’s money out of my pockets. They might as well mug me in the street-“

“That’s not why we’re here actually.” Tissaia spoke over him. “We’ve come to see if you have any information on the missing girls.”

He quit his work to stare at Tissaia for moment, apparently startled by her statement, before he continued without looking at her. “Bah, why would I know anything about that?”

The detectives followed his steady movement down the straw-filled aisle. “Let’s start with where you were the night Poppy Toms disappeared. She was taken not far from your farm.”

“How am I supposed to know when or where the bird got snatched from?” He said elusively.

“You don’t know she got taken Saturday last?” Tissaia pressed him doubtfully. “It’s all over the news and everyone is talking about it.”

“It’s none of my business.” He threw the feed with more force in agitation.

“So to be clear, you can’t account for your whereabouts?” She arched her brow at him.

“I never said that.” Boggs growled. “I was home with the missus.”

“And she can verify that?”

“She doesn’t need to verify shit. I’ve told you where I was.” He dumped the rest of his bucket into the last pen and turned to face off with Aadesh and Tissaia.

Vilgefortz piped up as it looked like the man was about to violently launch himself at Tissaia, “Did you know either of the girls that got taken?”

“Why would I care about a couple of slags that went missing? You can’t tell one from the other around here.” His eyes skittered back and forth between them.

“The body of Abigail Johnson was found yesterday. She’s not just missing anymore. She’s been murdered. One would think you’d be a little less cavalier about this. Or at least less vulgar.” Tissaia took a step forward as if physically trying to demand answers from him. He had nothing to say for himself, just the pressure and commotion of the pigs swelled around them. The man fidgeted and swiped at his nose. When he raised his hand, Tissaia suddenly noted with a spark that his fingernails were nicotine stained, “Do you smoke Mr. Boggs?”

“Is it a crime now?” He snipped back incredulously

“What brand do you smoke?”

“Winston Red. Are you going to cuff me for it?” The disappointment at his answer struck her in the chest and she deflated a little. It felt like they had him cornered and he’d managed to slip away in the last second.

“Dad?” A voice came from the other end of the barn. She and Vilgefortz whipped around to see a young woman had appeared in the doorway of the barn. Seeing the strangers with her father, she uncertainly moved toward them, “Dad, Mum was wondering if you could come in and look at the sink. It’s sprung that leak again… What’s going on?”

As the girl drew nearer, Tissaia could see she looked a lot like her father with the same pink complexion and ears noticeably protruding from her head. Logically she knew that this girl would be Yennefer’s half-sister, but she could scarcely find a trace that they were related. Where Yennefer had dark, beautiful elegance, this girl with a dusty jumper and dishwater-colored hair in a flat ponytail, while not necessarily unattractive, had terrible plainness. Boggs took the interruption as an opportunity to brush passed the detectives and join his daughter, “It’s nothing, we’re done here. And you two can get the hell off my property.”

The partners had no other choice but to comply with his order. As Aadesh got into the car, Tissaia stood outside her door for an extra moment to watch the two Boggs head back to the house. Calvin glanced behind to shoot her a final dirty look. She returned it with her own hardened expression before dipping into the car and turning the keys into the ignition.

Once back on the road and they had time to reflect on their encounter, Tissaia asked, “So what do you make of him?”

“Well he’s a prick.” Vilgefortz expelled a breath heavily.

“Agreed.”

“Dodgy about his alibi and acting like he didn’t know anything about the investigation like he’s trying to distance himself from it.” Her partner assessed. “It definitely seemed like he had something to hide.”

She nodded along with him, her thoughts obsessing on how to figure out exactly what it was that he was trying to hide. “Not to mention he didn’t exactly have a high regard for the missing girls.”

“This is compelling, Tissaia, but it won’t mean anything if the DNA on the cigarettes comes back to match Malcolm Istredd.” He reminded her of the one daggered outlier from their conversation with Calvin Boggs. He didn’t smoke Marlboro Lights though she’d never met a smoker so discerning that they would turn down a cigarette because it wasn’t their preferred brand. Her thoughts strayed to Yennefer sitting at her kitchen table and roughly but earnestly explaining a scientific theory to her.

“Schrodinger’s Cats.” Tissaia mumbled.

“What?” Aadesh turned to her thinking he’d misheard.

“Nothing. Never mind.” She shook her head and they made the rest of the journey back in contemplative silence.

As Tissaia turned into the driveway of the cottage she was taken back to find a black, sleek Porsche already parked there. The detective inspector cut the engine and stepped out the same time the owner of the other car did, “Fringilla, what are you doing here?”

Her friend was a welcome sight looking regal in her long, blue peacoat, designer bag hanging from her wrist and hair perfectly coiffed in a short Afro. She smiled astonishedly at the medical examiner. Fringilla sort of sashayed over to her with a smirk and said, “Well a dead body turned up so I figured it was about time I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I feel like this took a long time! I haven't had much time to write but here's what I've got :)
> 
> A decent sized flashback and a little interrogation and the slow burn continues. Next up, a melding of the minds!
> 
> Thanks for reading, would love to hear your thoughts and comments <3


	11. Now that, I'd Testify to in Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, that there is graphic discussion of a body and decomposition.

Tissaia laughed, still slightly astounded at finding Fringilla Vigo in front of her childhood home. She looked out of place in the quaint countryside, all clean lines and elegance with her designer clothes and excellent posture. The sagging, overgrown garden and homely cottage of rough stone were an incongruous background for her posh aesthetic. “Seriously, what are you doing here? How did you even know where to come?”

“Since _you_ stopped answering my texts,” She let the guilt sink in for a beat before going on to explain, “I messaged Aadesh and he thought it would be a good idea for me to come and offer my expertise. And you know I’ve got a penchant for a dash of drama. I couldn’t resist it being a surprise.”

“Well, I’m surprised. Pleasantly so.” Tissaia grinned.

“Of course you are.” Fringilla said with faux haughtiness then turned to Vilgefortz, “Aadesh, my bag is in the back seat. Could you be a dear and grab it?”

“I’m not the bloody valet.” He complained but opened the car door to get her weekender bag.

“Oh? Then whatever do you keep him around for?” She asked Tissaia as she looped their arms together to head up to the house. Vilgefortz grumbled as he followed. She couldn’t completely make out what her partner was saying but she thought she heard ‘mean ladies’ and something about finding more men to hang out with. She made a note to herself to make sure she bought his dinner tonight lest he follow through on finding different companions.

Fringilla had arrived at the perfect time. They had an hour or so to settle the doctor into her parents’ old bedroom and catch her up on what they learned since they’d arrived at Sodden Hill before Yennefer texted asking if she could meet at The White Wolf for dinner in the next 20 minutes. She replied affirmatively, telling Vilgefortz and Fringilla that they were ready to meet for the full autopsy report. Tissaia ushered them quickly out of the house and drove them over to the bar. Despite being early, the trio walked up to the pub at the same time as Yennefer. The detective sergeant faltered a moment at seeing the two additional people flanking either of Tissaia’s sides. Adjusting the strap to the black messenger cross her torso as they neared, she said, “I didn’t realize you were bringing a whole committee with you.”

It dawned on Tissaia she hadn’t mentioned that she would be bringing company along in her speed to meet up with Yennefer. She rushed to make introductions, “Yennefer, this is Dr. Fringilla Vigo, the medical examiner for my department back home. Fringilla, this is DS Yennefer Vengerberg.”

“DS? Did you skip a grade?” Fringilla asked as she reached her hand out to shake the other woman’s hand noting on her youthful appearance.

“Just clean living.” Yennefer said airily. “Vigo as in…”

She let Fringilla fill in her sentence, identifying her last name that she shared with the well-known politician. “One in the same. He’s my father.”

“Hm. I didn’t vote for him.”

“Neither did I.” Both women’s lips curled up in a smile after that, apparently approving of one another in their own roundabout way.

Yennefer turned to lead them into the bar, “Let’s get a table.”

From behind her back, Fringilla raised her eyebrows at Tissaia, a large knowing grinning overtaking her face. Vilgefortz must have said more than just that she could use help with the investigation. She rolled her eyes and followed Yennefer inside, knowing the Fringilla and Aadesh would be colluding and smirking behind her back. They were only a couple steps through the door when someone called out, “Yen!”

Yennefer turned, her black curls whipping around, and Tissaia followed her gaze to Triss enthusiastically waving at her. The botanist sat at a table with an older gentleman that she barely recognized as Freddy Merigold, the man having more wrinkles and a greater curve to his spine than from what she remembered. Last she’d seen him, he had been tall and strapping, probably helping her father load bags of heavy mulch into the boot of their car, and now he seemed shrunken and fragile hunched over a bowl of soup. Yennefer split off from the group, “Go ahead. I’ll catch up in a moment.”

While she went to say hello to the Merigold’s, they found a private table in the corner. It was a weeknight and the slowest that Tissaia had ever seen the pub so there was plenty of space for them. She surveyed the room, realizing she was starting to be able to recognize the few locals even though they had only been in town for a few days. Next to Triss and her grandfather, Cahir Emreis was having a quiet dinner by himself, his eyes cast down on a book that lay flat on his table, though his gaze did stray to peer surreptitiously at Yennefer’s backside as she stood and talked. DC Coral Neyd chatted with a uniformed police officer over a couple pints. The man called Jaskier from their first night at The White Wolf leaned over the bar talking to Geralt, though talking at Geralt may have been a more accurate description based on how much his lips were moving and how little the bartender’s moved. Fortunately, Yennefer was not gone long enough for her friends to start in on her about anything beyond a professional relationship with the younger detective.

“Right.” She took the seat next to Tissaia and across from Fringilla and tried to get down to business. “I’ve got the report here-“

As she made to get into her bag set on her lap, Vilgefortz interrupted her. “Before we start looking at autopsy photos, can we have dinner like civilized human beings.”

Yennefer opened her mouth with a protest on the tip of her tongue but Fringilla interceded, “Yes, I’d like you to tell me more about the cases… and which wine you’d recommend.”

The doctor glared at the wine list on the table as if it had offended her. Yennefer huffed but let her bag fall to the floor and said sullenly, “The pinot noir is the only one worth drinking.”

So dinner progressed. The waitress came around and when Vilgefortz hemmed and hawed about what to get, Yennefer ended up brusquely order the pot roast for the whole table, Guinness for Tissaia and Aadesh and the recommended pinot noir for herself and Fringilla, leaving no room for argument. DS Vengerberg spoke about Operation Last Rose from start to finish, the words coming from her as if she were reading directly from her notes instead of her stream of conscious. They ate the pot roast, which was decidedly delicious. When Tissaia informed Yennefer they had been to see Calvin Boggs, she leaned in demanding to know what he’d said. She listened intently to every detail with a hard gleam in her eyes as the encounter was relayed to her- the secluded farm, his failure to provide a solid alibi, the distain with which he spoke about the missing girls. But it all felt like they were biding the time, until they could look into the full autopsy report. Eventually the plates were cleared, another round ordered, and the detective sergeant pulled out the manila folder handing it to Tissaia first. The occupants at the table seemed to tilt inward as Yennefer lowered her voice to talk, “The remains were in bad shape obviously since she’d been burned. Unfortunately, no foreign DNA could be salvaged from on the body. They’re relying solely on the results of the cigarette butts.”

Tissaia open the folder and read aloud from the top page, “It says cause of death was manual asphyxiation based on deep tissue bruising around the neck. Insect activity indicates she’s been in the ground for about three weeks, which we knew.”

The report painted a gruesome picture of Abigail Johnson’s fate. She had gone missing three months ago, leaving over two months for her to have been alive somewhere and suffering at the hands of her captor only to ultimately be strangled to death. Tissaia could not help but wonder about those moments she been spent held hostage, how scared she must have been, if she were in any pain or cold or hungry, if she’d kept a heartbreaking sliver of hope that she might have been able to go home again. Instead the monster who took her burned her body and buried her away from her friends and family. Biting back her anger, the detective inspector flipped the first page over revealing the pictures. Graphic pictures of the disfigured corpse she’d already seen, pictures of sampled insect larvae labelled with the week associated with its stage of development, and pictures of cell slides taken from various organs that would be better left for Fringilla to interpret.

She passed the folder along to the doctor as Yennefer said, “My issue is I find it hard to believe it would have taken that long to uncover her. How could she have gone for three weeks undiscovered out in Brokilon? I poked around to see when the search effort would have been out there, but it’s been a logistic nightmare. The time frame for the searches wasn’t well documented.”

“Even if official searchers hadn’t been out there recently, plenty of hikers and dogwalkers have with ample opportunity to find her.” Tissaia added.

Vilgefortz even chimed in, “And that’s their whole deal, isn’t it? Dogs are good at finding stuff.”

“Until they aren’t good at ‘finding stuff’.” Fringilla played devil’s advocate, illustrating their unreliability with the anecdote, “My dad has a standard poodle that spends all day barking at clouds he’s thinks are too large and intimidating.”

The medical examiner never lifted her eyes from the page as they quickly flit over the contents. As she finished with a page, she passed them to Vilgefortz for him to have a look as well. Though while Fringilla read with engrossed curiosity, her partner’s expression was far grimmer. They dipped into silence as they waited for the doctor to evaluate the information. Tissaia glanced to Yennefer who watched Fringilla fixedly, tightly gripping the stem of her wine glass though managing to refrain from interrupting her. The older detective felt the anticipation humming off the younger, a desperation for something to be revealed.

“Hm, that’s interesting...” Dr. Vigo suddenly announced.

“What?”

She plucked out some of the microscopic images of the cells. In the white borders of the prints someone had tidily written where they had come from- heart, liver, stomach, skin tissue. Pointing to where they should be looking, Fringilla continued, “You see here how the cellular membranes have been ruptured? That indicates the body has been frozen. Ice crystals form and cause structural failure. You can see it here in the lysosomes too.”

Her finger moved to an indistinct blob within the cell. “They should be solid spheres. Here it looks like they’re bleeding out. The appearance is unmistakable. I don’t see your coroner accounted for any of this.”

“What would that mean for the time of death?” Yennefer asked.

“Freezing makes it nearly impossible to say when she died. He could have killed her the night she was taken.” She reached for a picture she’d given Vilgefortz, “I will say that besides the creepy crawlies the level of decomposition doesn’t match what you would see at three weeks.”

Tissaia prompted, “How do you mean?”

“When a body has been frozen, once it starts to thaw, the rate of decay increases because of the damage the cells undergo. If she’d been in the ground for three weeks, we would see a lot more what we would call ‘slippage.’”

“So disregarding the bugs, how long would you put her in the woods for?”

Fringilla examined a photo of the corpse, “I’d say she’d been buried for no more than 24 hours.”

“And this is something you could testify to?” Yennefer inquired excitedly.

“I could.” The doctor nodded, however she included a caveat. “But the study of decomposition isn’t an exact science. There are too many factors; temperature, moisture, soil pH, oxygen levels, interference from animals… Sometimes things don’t happen the way they’re supposed to, and we don’t know why. I do know that flies don’t burrow underground to lay their eggs.”

“So how would the flies have gotten there if the body had only been down there for 24 hours?” Aadesh proposed the question. They took a minute to think over the dilemma they faced to explain the inconsistencies.

Fringilla shifted forward first, drawing their attention she began. “Say the body was frozen and the killer needs to get it in the ground fast and make like its been there the whole time. So he sets the remains on fire enough to thaw her out a bit and get the bugs into her. Where he’d harvested the bugs from, I couldn’t say.”

“Ordered them online?” Aadesh suggested, “You can get maggots as bait for fishing, or like you’d get to feed an iguana.”

“He wouldn’t need to if he lived on a farm.” Tissaia said, feeling an unseen momentum building around them as a picture began to form. “There is plenty of death of a farm. Leave an animal in a field for a few weeks and there’s your source.”

All the pieces were there as Yennefer put them together into a story, “Abigail was riding her bike home from the bonfire on the isolated country road when a car pulls up. Maybe he runs her off the road and gives her a fright, the bike get damaged. He subdues her, gets her in the car and they go off in the night without any witnesses. He takes her out to his farm, let’s say a pig farm for instance, where he’s arranged a place to stash her. But he get’s overzealous and accidentally kills her right out the gate so he stores the body in a meat locker only he has the keys to until he can figure out what to do.”

“He gets the chance to grab another girl when he drives by Poppy at the bus stop and he decides it’s time to get rid of Abigail’s body. Then the fuss kicks up around Istredd and it’s the perfect opportunity to shift the blame. Except he can’t just dump the body because Istredd has been taken into custody. He has to make it seem like she’s been out there hence why the physical decay doesn’t match with the insect activity and why she’d only now just been found.” She finished connecting all the dots, except for one final line that needed to be drawn to Calvin Boggs. Yennefer turned to meet Tissaia’s eyes. They did not need to speak for Tissaia to have an idea of what Yennefer was thinking, how the fiery desperation poured through her eyes as she wanted to prove that this bad man was the one responsible. Rightly to bring justice for the lost girls, for Istredd and Sabrina, but behind that the inkling of hope to bring just for the lonely, damaged girl sleeping in a pigpen.

“Now that,” Fringilla raised her glass impressed, “I’d testify to in court.”

Her lips turned down after she sipped the wine, forgetting it was not quite up to par. “I’ve had enough of this. Tissaia, let’s say we go around to yours and continue this conversation. I’ve stuck some lovely vintages in my bag just in case.”

-

The little party agreed to the venue change, paid up their bills and left the pub with a wave to Geralt. Since they’d started dinner, night had enveloped the outside, the streets swathed in navy blue shadows. The streetlights cast orange spotlights attracting moths to swoop and cluster around the warm glow. Tissaia led the way back up the road to where she’d parked the car while they made content, idle chatter as if for the moment they could just be a group of mates having a night out at the local. Vilgefortz rubbed his stomach exclaiming at how good the roast had been, and he’d never need to eat anything ever again in his usual melodramatic fashion, but she knew he’d be ready to eat a dozen eggs by breakfast time tomorrow. She would have told him as much but when a dark green truck driving by caught her attention, she stopped. She’d only just caught a glimpse at who drove it but she recognized his round, portly face and knit cap immediately. “That’s Boggs.”

DS Vengerberg had noticed too as she closely watched the taillights departing. Suddenly she declared, “We should follow him.”

They’d made it to Tissaia’s car, and Yennefer quickly got into the back with Fringilla. Tissaia got into the driver seat and as Aadesh took the front passenger seat he asked, “Should we follow him?”

“We should.” Tissaia nodded and started the engine, barely checking her mirrors before merging onto the road to catch up.

“On what grounds?” He asked dubiously.

“Um, for fun?” Fringilla sat forward in her seat, her voice tinged with enthusiasm. The medical examiner never got to be in the field and the prospect of tailing a suspect seemed to excite her. “This is the fellow you like for the kidnappings?”

“Love him for it.” Yennefer confirmed. Tissaia pressed the accelerated a little harder as they lost sight of the truck when it turned a corner.

Vilgefortz was still less than convinced, “Are we actually doing this? What if he sees us?”

“We’ll claim coincidence.” She dismissed his worries. “You can’t deny he’s been suspicious. Don’t you want to see what’s he’s up to?”

“Alright, fine. But let’s be smart about this.” He conceded as she made the same turn as Bogg’s truck had and it came back into view. A crackling silence fell over the car as if they were to say anything they might spook their unsuspecting quarry. Tissaia felt her heart pounding in her chest as a jolt of adrenaline kicked in her system, her hands flexed around the steering wheel. She was hyper aware of Yennefer sitting behind her on the edge of her seat so she could watch the truck’s progress through the windshield, her breath practically ghosting over Tissaia’s ear.

Boggs led them along a sideroad that sort of ran parallel to the town. Garden walls covered ivy flanked either side of the street making if feel as if they were traveling through a tunnel. The headlights chased away only a few meters of darkness in front of them, the white center lines disappearing rapidly underneath the car and red lights of the truck hovered steadily in the black ahead of them. Eventually, he turned left to go back into town surprising Tissaia. She would have thought he’d have gone right to head into the more secluded countryside. But they followed him into an older district of the village with cobblestone streets and driftwood shingled rooftops. The streetlamps were few and far between, giving the buildings a desolate, abandoned quality. Boggs seemed to have no destination in mind until her turned down an especially quiet road only lit by the three-quarter full moon. He pulled his truck up to the curb and parked. Tissaia braked abruptly at the end of the street, turning off her car and lights before he was alerted to their presence. It was difficult to see but they could make out his figure as he shuffled a little way down the sidewalk, looking around nervously as he went. The farmer then halted in front of a building, fiddling with the front door a moment before slipping inside. Tissaia spoke first, “What the hell is he doing?”

“Only one way to find out.” Yennefer said already exiting the car.

“Yes, I like this girl.” Fringilla said under her breath as she followed suit with Tissaia and Vilgefortz hot on their heels. They were careful to shut the car doors as softly as possible before they started down the street, the only sound they made was the faint, urgent rustling of their coats and gentle clicking of their shoes on the stone beneath their feet. They paused just outside the door to regroup, Vilgefortz asking, “Now what?”

“We should split up. Two of us follow him in, the other two go around back in case he tries to bolt.” Tissaia formulated a quick plan.

“Aadesh and I will go.” Fringilla volunteered as she grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled him down the narrow alley that led to the back of the building, leaving Tissaia and Yennefer to creep toward the front. DI DeVries let her thoughts go blank but sharp, focusing on only perceiving their surroundings and anticipating a confrontation if the occasion arose as Yennefer pressed down the door handle and stood back for the door to swing open. The taller woman went in first, taking out her cell phone and turning on the light to be able to illuminate the space. The building was under renovations with most of the interior ripped out so you couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a shop or home. As Yennefer panned the light across the room they could see rolls of unlaid carpet rested against the wall, stacks of timber laid around and the place smelled of saw dust. Eerie silence pervaded around them, the kind that felt as if you had cotton stuffed in your ears. There was no sign of Calvin.

In the corner of the room, there was a staircase. The younger detective pointed to it and Tissaia nodded in understanding. Still leading the way, DS Vengerberg slinked to the stairs, her movements measured but not hesitant. Tissaia stayed right behind her shoulder while keeping an eye at their back to make sure if was covered. They hit the steps and climbed up to the first landing. And as Yennefer shone the light to the top of the stairs, a figure jumped into view. Calvin Boggs stood frozen with a hefty toolbox in his arms, caught in the beam and squinting at the sudden brightness. There was a drawn out beat where nobody moved, until Boggs abruptly heaved the toolbox down at them.

“Look out!” Yennefer pushed Tissaia back so they were on the lower steps, her body shielding her own as the toolbox landed with a resounding thump and unholy clatter of rattling metal inside. The second the noise faded, the women were back in action, maneuvering around the mess of wrenches and screwdrivers that had spilled everywhere and charging up the staircase. When they reached the second level, Boggs was already at the end of the hall by a frosted tarp hung over a window. He looked back at his pursuers for a moment, then drew back the plastic revealing the window had been left propped open.

“He’s making a break for it.” Yennefer said rushing to try and catch him, but he was too far away for her to make it in time. The man sat himself on the ledge, swung his legs around and jumped out of the building. They could hear him fall onto something with a soft thump, then muffled shouting voices followed. The detectives made it to the window and peered at the scene below. It appeared he had fallen into a full dumpster but when he tried to make his escape Vilgefortz had been right there. Tissaia and Yennefer could only watch as the two men struggled, though the scuffle turned out to be brief. Fringilla who had been observing from a safe distance took the initiative to make a remarkable swiping kick at their suspect’s legs, so he collapsed straight onto his back. Vilgefortz quickly pounced on Boggs, getting him turned on his stomach and pinned to the ground.

“Now that was a bit of fun.” Fringilla exclaimed then looking up at the two women still hanging out the window. Tissaia could make out her enthusiastic grin as she said, “We got him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action! Adventure! Romance! Well romance some day. I thought for sure this time lol.
> 
> But I'm hoping to post another chapter soon since I've had a little time off. As always, thanks for reading, hope to see you in the comments section :)


	12. Straying Toward Chaos

They have Calvin Boggs sitting on the curb with his hands cuffed behind his back. The detectives and medical examiner stood in front of him as he swore vehemently at them, his eyes trained on Yennefer though, “Let me go you bloody filth. Fucking filth, you think you can do this to me? You disgusting-“

“Just shut up. For once in your life, **shut up.** ” Yennefer cut him off fiercely. Tissaia could feel the younger detective simmered with barely controlled, lovely fury, and recklessness flashed in her eyes as she stared down the hateful man. “What were you doing in there?”

“I’m not telling you nothing.” He spat.

“I think you will.” She moved toward him threateningly and for an instance Tissaia thought they may have to restrain her, but she pulled up short. “Tell us what you were doing in there and you get to keep the teeth in your head.”

Boggs glared fire but reluctantly started to talk, “Look it was just a little burglarizing. It’s not a big deal. They’re insured for it.”

“Burglarizing?” Tissaia questioned. “With all that’s going on you thought you’d stage a B&E?”

“Everyone is preoccupied with them missing girls. No one cares when some stuff goes missing.” He sniffed, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re using other people’s tragedy to nick a toolbox?” Tissaia asked aghast.

“It’s been the Poppy and Abby show for weeks now, hasn’t it? Everyone is making a nice bit of coin out of it.” He tried to justify, making it out like he was simply a pragmatic businessman. “I’m just doing the same.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Tissaia said with revulsion but Yennefer had turned away storming a short distance away. Her eyes tracked her movements as the younger woman paced in a tight, frustrated line. Aadesh and Fringilla traded worried looks with her. Making a gesture for Vilgefortz to keep an eye on Calvin, she tentatively approached the agitated woman. She quit her pacing with her back to Tissaia, hands shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket. She said sullenly, “It’s not him.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been a string of robberies over the last couple of months. One was reported on the night Poppy disappeared.” Defeat weighed heavily in her voice. “If he’s behind the break ins, then he couldn’t have been the one who took Poppy. He wouldn’t have been the one to take Abigail.”

“That’s why he was acting dodgy when we asked him where he was the night Poppy went missing. He was committing a crime, just not the one we thought.” The realization brought their carefully crafted narrative, their buoyant hope that had been getting to the reality of what happened, crashing down around them. Tissaia wanted to be reassuring, tell her maybe he wasn’t responsible for the other robberies, there could still be a chance but the sinking feeling in her gut told her that it was not true. Her words would have been hollow placations and they both would know it.

“Dammit.” Yennefer cursed, shaking her heading in disbelief, in disappointment. “I’m going to call this in, have some patrol officers pick him up.”

Tissaia watched as she walked further away back toward the car, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. The detective inspector expelled a disheartened breath, running her hand over top her head to brush away any loose hair come undone from her bun in the action that occurred. Back down the road her partner and friend looked at her expectantly with Boggs paunchy, hunched form sitting uncomfortably with his knees in his chest. The man they had ensnared was undoubtedly bad, despicable even, but looking at his pathetic figure now she could see he was not a murder. A few meters to on the other side of her, Yennefer had gotten on the line with dispatch, her voice clipped and professional, but the slope in her shoulders, her hand roughly raking through her long hair, spoke to her actual feelings. The feelings that reflected wrenching sensation in her own chest. Tearing her eyes away, Tissaia turned her face up to the sky to stare up at the glowing moon, alone and so far away.

-

When the two uniformed officers showed up on the scene, they quickly ushered the pig farmer into their patrol car, by now he was cussing and ranting once again. Yennefer went with them to book her collar while Tissaia left to take Fringilla and Vilgefortz home. She informed them of the brief conversation she had with the detective sergeant, her companions falling into a morose mood as well at having their perfect bubble popped.

When she pulled into the driveway, Tissaia did not get out of the car with her friends. They peered at her inquisitively as she put the car back into gear. She only offered them the vague explanation that she needed to head back out, but she imagined they knew that she would be heading over to Yennefer’s apartment. The detective drove over realizing Yennefer would probably not be back yet, still she parked across the street and waited and let her thoughts wander. She had felt so certain the Calvin Boggs would have been the culprit and now that she found out that he wasn’t she’d become unmoored. Her conscientious pragmatism and prudence had been taken over by an instinct she always endeavored to quell. It could be described as a certain chaos she strayed toward, to go to any lengths of accomplish her goals to the point of harm. Tissaia had allowed herself to charge headfirst into a dangerous situation. They had chased a man who had potentially been a murderer into an isolated building with a half-cocked plan, with no back up and with a civilian no less, though Fringilla had proven herself capable. All the self-defense classes she had taken at the dojo apparently had been worth it. Still it had been a recipe for disaster, and someone could easily have gotten hurt or worse.

Despite all that, Tissaia wanted to follow the thread of chaos, and spiral out of control in the magnificent disorder. In the midst of it was Yennefer’s face pulling her down further, her brow furrowed with indignance, chin tilted up proudly, eyes molten with desire and incredibly beautiful. As if her thoughts summoned her, the younger detective emerged from the darkness, walking to the front of the shuttered flower shop. Tissaia stepped out, calling her name, “Yennefer.”

She spun quickly, but her stance was relaxed when she looked at Tissaia with a bored expression. Or you could be perceived as bored, but she could see the pleased slant of her head and intrigued tick to her brow, “DI DeVries. Can I interest you in a nightcap?”

“Whiskey?” Tissaia asked with wry seriousness.

Yennefer jammed her keys into the lock and opened it with a decisive snap, “Is there anything else?”

“Then by all means, lead the way.”

Yennefer let them into the shop, making sure the door was locked behind them. It was odd being in a shop after hours like this; the blue silhouettes of spiky fronds and scalloped leaves created a pretend jungle for them to trek through. The stairs creaked eagerly under their feet as they made their ascent to the short hallway, Yennefer’s keys jingling daintily as she unlocked the second door. The detective sergeant moved habitually into her home, hanging her keys on a hook by the door and flipping on the light switch. It turned on a lamp in the living room, the light weakly illuminating the room but not quite making it to the edges of the flat. Yennefer didn’t bother with more lights though. She went straight to the kitchen, pulled out two tumblers from a cabinet and stretched up further to get down a forest green bottle of Jameson whiskey, depositing them on the table as Tissaia sat.

From where the bedroom was situated, Anica sauntered into the kitchen yawning and stretching, her sleep having been disturbed. She curled herself around Yennefer’s legs as she got ice cubes from the freezer. And when it became apparent she wasn’t getting anything else from the refrigerator, she gracefully leapt onto the counter and squeezed out of the window with an imperious swish of her tail. Yennefer joined Tissaia at the table, the ice plinking gently into the glasses. As she poured a healthy amount of the amber liquid over the ice, she stated, “Boggs did the other robberies. I implied he was going down for murder and he confessed before we got out of the car.”

Tissaia had a drink of her whiskey before offering her meager condolences, “He looked good for it. He really did.”

“I should have known better.” She suddenly snapped with annoyance at herself. “He’s an idiot and a drunk. He wouldn’t be capable of pulling off something like this.”

“But there is someone out there who could be capable of it. Someone wants it to seem as if Istredd could be the killer.” Tissaia tapped her finger against her glass. “You can’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”

“My judgment is perfectly clear.” Yennefer replied testily.

“You think following Boggs shows clear judgement? It was foolish and dangerous.” Tissaia found herself challenging the other woman.

“I felt pretty safe seeing him in handcuffs.” She scoffed.

Tissaia shook her head, she was missing the point. “There are detectives who strictly follow the evidence and ignore their emotions and then there are detectives like us who are consumed by them.”

“Like us?” Yennefer plucked at the words Tissaia said with curiosity.

“You have to control your emotions, not succumb to them. Use them and turn them into instinct. Trails can run cold but if you can trust your gut that doesn’t matter. That’s the difference between a good detective and a brilliant one.” Tissaia lifted her drink and tipped it in Yennefer’s direction before finishing off the contents, the liquor like burning honey down her throat. The younger woman mirrored her movements, polishing off her glass as well. Her dark eyes that had smoldered with ire, now were alight with something else entirely that warmed low inside Tissaia’s stomach. The inspector licked her lips, drawing Yennefer’s hooded eyes to blatantly stare at them. Whatever professionalism or obligation that had been keeping Tissaia from giving into her attraction dissipated under the wanton gaze.

Silence seemed to crescendo around them, until Yennefer shifted forward, her knees knocking into Tissaia’s. Raising her hand, she rested it against her own hand still wrapped around the tumbler. Her voice rough and quiet as the raven-haired woman asked, “And what if I want to be consumed?”

Yennefer slid her hand up slightly, so her thumb caressed the inside of Tissaia’s wrist making her breathing hitch at the simple touch. She reciprocated, turning her hand into Yennefer’s so her fingers brushing against her palm as she replied, “That could be arranged.”

They moved in tandem then, venturing into the space between them, their lips finding each other the way lightning inevitably found the highest peak to strike. Kissing Yennefer had her heart thundering in her chest, her lips soft but insistent against her own. Tissaia parted her lips and Yennefer immediately swept her tongue into her mouth. She reached up to thread her fingers into the thick hair at the base of Yennefer’s neck to pull her closer as her desire hummed through her veins. Soon their kissing at the table became insufficient. When Tissaia sunk her teeth into the fullness of Yennefer’s bottom lip, the younger woman abruptly moved to stand, tugging Tissaia along with her. They stumbled across the room towards the bed, awkwardly toeing off their shoes and trying to feel as much of each other as possible. Yennefer pushed off her coat and in turn she peeled the leather jacket off of the taller woman. Hands untucked her shirt to slide underneath, fingers trailing up her ribs, while Tissaia still had her one hand thread through silken hair and the other hand gripped her hip.

The back of her legs hit the bed, but they didn’t topple into the blankets yet. Yennefer pulled back to look into Tissaia’s eyes, reaching to slowly unbutton her shirt, as if giving her a chance to stop their trajectory. Tissaia couldn’t fathom stopping now though as she let Yennefer push the garment off of her shoulders and it soundlessly fluttered to the floor. Yennefer appraised her with dark, wanting eyes, drinking in her pale, newly exposed skin. Tissaia’s hands found the hem of Yennefer’s shirt and lifted until it was over her head, tossing it aside with her own top. The younger woman was breathtaking, her breast pushed up in a lacy black bra and torso gracefully slender.

The detective inspector leaned in to kiss along Yennefer’s collar bone that lined up perfectly with her mouth. Yennefer explored the planes of her back, until her fingers landed on the clasp of her bra and unhooked it. The taller woman nudged her back and they finished the descent onto the bed, their lips reconnecting as they went. Yennefer pulled at her bra that had been trapped between their bodies and Tissaia twisted at the hooks of Yennefer’s bra to remove it as well, desperately needing to feel skin pressed against skin. She moaned at the overwhelming sensations of their bodies meddling together, Yennefer sucking lightly on her tongue and her thigh slotting between legs. Her hips instinctually grinding down to seek relief for the growing need there.

“You’re so beautiful.” Yennefer husked as she appreciatively glanced down at her body before moving back in to place hot kisses down her neck. Tissaia could only groan in response, the lips traveling further down to kiss her chest. The younger woman teased, kissing around her breasts but not quite where she wanted. However, not one to beg, she endured the sweet torture. Her breathing stuttered when Yennefer’s tongue finally swiped across her nipple then sucked it into her mouth. One of her hands fondled her other breast, her thumb brushing repeated over that nipple. The pleasure jolted through her settling at her core. She threw her head back at the feeling of the tongue strumming against her, noticing for the first time that there was a skylight above the bed with the moon perfectly framed in it. Then Yennefer was moving lower, painting a path down her stomach and kissing at the skin above the top of her jeans. Her hips canted up in impatient anticipation and Tissaia could feel the other woman smiling against her as teeth gently scraped against her hip bone.

But thankfully Yennefer undid the button to her jeans, dragged down the zipper and started to tug them off of her legs, taking Tissaia’s underwear along with them to leave her completely naked. Yennefer paused to look at her hungrily for a long few seconds before she rushed back down to kiss at the apex of her thigh, then lower on the inside of her thigh, from the sweetly sharp feeling probably leaving a trail of love bites.

“Oh god, yes.” Tissaia exclaimed breathlessly when Yennefer first dipped her tongue into her folds. Her hands twisted in the sheets as she pressed herself more onto the gentle probing of her mouth.

After a moment, Yennefer retracted herself though, her voice dark with arousal as she ordered, “Touch yourself.”

Without question, Tissaia brought her hands up to cup her own breasts. Yennefer resumed licking at her sex, her eyes fixedly watched Tissaia’s movements. She swirled her own fingertips around her nipples, pinching one lightly and Yennefer moaned against her as she did. Tissaia felt hot all over, the desire building up inside of her. The meandering movements of Yennefer’s tongue began to focus more on her clit making her hips twitch against her. She panted, “Yes, like that. So good. Oh, fuck.”

Yennefer moved her hands to Tissaia’s hips to pin them down to the bed, her tongue incessantly flicking against her clit. The older detective stopped touching her own chest, her hands raking through the long, silky locks on the head between her legs, holding her in place. Yennefer groaned as Tissaia tugged her hair when her orgasm blissfully rippled through her. She cried out as she came, “Yennefer, oh god. Yes, Yennefer.”

Tissaia was in a daze as the pleasure slowly ebbed to the back of her mind. She could feel Yennefer shifting away and was vaguely aware she’d gotten off the bed to strip off her black jeans and underwear. She quickly returned though, peppering kisses up Tissaia’s body and coming to straddle her hips. Their lips found each other once against, Tissaia dipping her tongue into Yennefer’s mouth and she pressed her wetness against her stomach. Tissaia sparked back to life at the feeling, moving to sit up so Yennefer now straddled her lap. Remembering how the younger woman had reacted, Tissaia carded her fingers through the hair at the back of her head and pulled back to expose her throat. Yennefer made the same noise of pleasure, her hands gripping at Tissaia’s shoulders. She licked and nipped at the tendons straining in her neck before moving her attention lower to her chest. Her lips closed around Yennefer’s nipple circling her tongue around it making her moan. Taking her time, Tissaia lavished attention to her breasts with her mouth, her hands sliding over the supple body suspended over her. When she massaged the fullness of Yennefer’s ass, the other woman rocked against the touch.

She whimpered, “Tissaia, please I need you inside me.”

Unable to think of a reason to deny her, Tissaia slid her fingers through the heavy wetness of Yennefer’s sex, then pushed two fingers inside of her, watching the pleasure flickering tensely across her face.

“Oh fuck yes.” Yennefer hissed as she sunk herself fully onto Tissaia’s hand. The older woman didn’t move inside her quite yet. She sucked her nipple into her mouth, dragging her teeth across the sensitive flesh as Yennefer leisured worked herself against the fingers inside her. Tissaia could have stayed like that for the rest of the night with her tight heat clamping around her fingers but Yennefer’s movements were becoming more urgent. She began to thrust her fingers up into the other woman, which was met with gasps of relief and pleasure. Yennefer was rapidly coming undone. Tissaia shifted her position so the palm of her hand pressed against her clit with everything thrust. She watched in wonder as Yennefer went taut as she climaxed, moonlight pouring down her body in a magical sight, “I’m coming, oh fuck, Tissaia…”

When she finally went slack against Tissaia, she removed her fingers. Yennefer hummed contently as the detective inspector kissed the hollow of her throat, murmuring against her, “Gorgeous girl…”

In the aftermath, their movements were unhurried. Yennefer pulled out the pins that held up Tissaia assuredly ruined bun until her hair cascaded down her back. The younger detective combed her fingers through her hair before urging Tissaia to look up to capture her mouth in a languid kiss. When they parted, Yennefer had a small smile on her lips, “That was…”

Her thought trailed off unable to think of the words to describe it. Tissaia grinned back at her in agreement, “Yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about doing that since you came over for breakfast.”

“Since the first night in The White Wolf. That lipstick…”

Her smile turned cheeky at the admission, “Did it meet your expectations?”

Tissaia acted as though she were thinking. “I don’t know. It was only the once.”

She flipped them so Yennefer rested on the pillows and started to kiss down her neck, “I think I need to gather more evidence to properly answer that question.”

“Mm, you’re very thorough, Detective.” Yennefer purred as Tissaia moved further and further down her body to gather more evidence between her legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When your murder suspect doesn't pan out you have to have conciliation sex. I don't have the rules, I just observe them. Also detectives are modern day wizards apparently lol.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


	13. The Missing Person Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how long this took me -_-

The hour was late but Tissaia could not shut her eyes. She laid on her side facing Yennefer who rested on her stomach with her eyes closed and face relaxed as Tissaia ran her fingers over the subtle contours of her back, tracing along her shoulder blades and trailing down her spine. The moon cast an ethereal, blue light over the women; it felt like they were caught in a spell of calm when beyond the rumpled sheets they lay in there was so much unrest waiting. Her thoughts didn’t go beyond the rhythmic motion of her hand and the serene expression of the woman next to her.

Yennefer hummed, “Mm, that feels nice.”

Tissaia made a noise of agreement as she made sporadic circles around her hips. Yennefer opened her eye then, staring at her a moment before asking, “Did you always want to be a detective?”

Her movements stopped and her eyes focused to look into the steady gaze of the younger woman. Tissaia tried to remember a time in her life when she hadn’t been trying to solve something- following deer tracks until they disappeared into a creek, guessing the end of her mystery novel, taking on the case of her father’s missing spectacles, or figuring out what had befallen the stiff, little rabbit she’d found lifeless in a field. “If I ever wanted to do something else, it’s too long ago for me to remember… What about you? Did you want to be something other than a detective?”

“My childhood wasn’t conducive for wanting things.” She sighed shifting so she was on her side facing Tissaia. There was a hesitant pause before she continued, though Tissaia knew what she was going to say before she said it, “Calvin Boggs was my stepfather.”

“I know.” She admitted and when Yennefer raised her brow she went on to explain. “I asked my father what he knew about Boggs after the incident in the pub. He told me about a stepdaughter removed from his care. I put it together.”

“My father, my real father, died in a motorcycle accident before I was born. Then my mother married Boggs before I was a year old. I can’t imagine what she was like before, if she loved my father, if she was happy. The woman I know has always been miserable.” Yennefer recounted then stopped as if startled by her own candor, like she didn’t often speak about her parentage or didn’t know how to speak about it.

Tissaia inquired with gentle encouragement for her to continue, “Did your father have any family?”

“His whole family is back in India. I don’t know if they even know about me.” Yennefer said with a far-off look in her eyes. Tissaia nearly asked if she ever tried to reach out to them but the younger woman went on with another line of thought before she could.

“When CPS came for me, I didn’t want to go. I told them they couldn’t make me.” She recalled adding with a smirk, “I was a willful child.”

Tissaia shared in her moment of sardonic mirth; the detective sergeant had grown from a willful child into an even more willful adult. For whatever reason Tissaia felt she could always acutely envision Yennefer’s past, the picture of the younger woman as a surly 14-year-old conjured in her mind, eyes ablaze and her chin jutting out defiantly as she refused some overworked social workers. She went on with more seriousness, “Even though he was horrendous, my siblings apathetic, my mother meek and complicit… It still felt like I was being taken away from my family.”

The inspector listened attentively, trying not to interject her own distain for the pig farmer and the rest of her biological family so Yennefer could be allowed the space to think and speak. Tissaia wanted to know everything little detail Yennefer would reveal. She bit her bottom lip before she found her next words, “Then I met Istredd in the group home. He had this endurance, this kindness despite everything. He became my family. I don’t believe in a world where a man like Malcolm could be guilty and a man like Boggs could be innocent.”

“The investigation isn’t over.” Tissaia reminded her.

“To Stregobor it may as well be. He thinks he’s got his culprit.” Then she muttered, “Everyone in this god forsaken town does.”

“Why did you come back here?” Tissaia asked with genuine curiosity. It was clear that Yennefer had the talent to work on a larger police force. Working in Sodden Hill, Yennefer was the proverbial big fish in a small pond but from what she knew about the other woman it seemed like a shallow, unlikely situation she would strive for. And her formative years in the village were plagued with bad memories and horrible neglect. After Philippa had vanished, Tissaia had fled the small town as soon as she could with no intentions of looking back. Everything about her hometown reminded her of her loss, the void that her missing friend had carved into her life and she couldn’t bear the reminders. She wondered what motivation Yennefer would have to return to a place that had treated her so poorly. The other woman didn’t answer her question right away and when she did, she spoke with a certain ebb and flow of someone trying to uncover an unfamiliar truth.

“When I got taken away, they took me far away to the city, away from everything I knew. It felt like they were trying to hide me, bury what they allowed to happen to me for so long… I came back because I didn’t want to let them forget about me. I wanted them to see that I shouldn’t have been brushed aside… That I had something to give.”

Tissaia watched the subtle emotions on Yennefer’s face- eyes casting down to hide the flash of pain, a momentary dip of her brow in anger or maybe determination. For all her mystery, she could see the other woman clearly now. Underneath her fierceness and independence and persistence, there was a woman who had been hurt and abandoned, who felt the need to prove herself over and over again. Then maybe she would finally have a place to belong. Tissaia felt her heart tug in her chest for her as she said with tender earnest, “I think you have so much to give.”

Her sentiment and seriousness hung between them with Yennefer gazing at her with a touch of confusion, apparently unsure how to respond to it. Tissaia did not shy away though, and they held eye contact for a long moment. Then the younger detective blinked, and a mischievous expression took over, defaulting to a playful coyness that was easier than the heaviness that they had been conversing with. Drawing out her words with salaciousness, she asked, “Is that a request?”

Her fingers reach up to brush along Tissaia’s jaw then settle at the nape of her neck, half-heartedly trying to reignite their passionate activities. The inspector followed the mood shift but shook her head with a rueful smile, “Tempting but no. I’m exhausted.”

Tissaia let her eyes fall shut then suddenly realizing how tired she had become. The havoc of the day came over her; the dealing with Boggs, analyzing the autopsy report, their ill-advised pursuit that had spiked her adrenaline, then getting caught up in the whirlwind of the beautiful woman lying next to her, left her feeling completely expended. She expelled a heavy breath, her bones settling further into the mattress and her mind fading into the promising numbness of sleep already.

“I’m sorry, do I bore you?” Yennefer asked with dry amusement at her abrupt drowsiness.

“Hm?” She cracked an eye open to catch the teasing grin before shutting it once again. She could hear herself talking with the thoughtless slur of someone about to fall asleep, “No, quite the opposite. These past few days have been long, and the night restless. But I feel at ease here with you…”

Her sentence trailed and she began to drift off further. If her eyes had been open, she would have seen Yennefer lift her head from her pillow, her hand moving carefully to ghost over her cheek bone then down the slope of her nose. She would have seen Yennefer settle back down a little closer than before to study her face with a sort of reverence that would have warmed her cheeks as she stole a few unguarded minutes before letting her eyes slip shut and following Tissaia into sleep.

-

Despite having gone to bed late, Tissaia woke up early with the swatch of sky in the skylight above her was the deep sapphire color of an undecided morning. She had not moved much in the night and neither had Yennefer except she was nearer than she remembered, and her arm had loosely fallen around her waist. A small smile tugged at her lips at the younger woman sleeping soundly if rather haphazardly; her raven hair splayed wildly around her head and lips parted slightly as she took in deep, whispering breaths. Tissaia thought of shifting forward and pressing a kiss to those full lips until Yennefer woke up as well. And in the early hours, she could coax their passion back to life, taste warm skin and explore soft curves mostly hidden by the twisted blankets. But Yennefer looked too peaceful to disturb and her bladder insisted that she get up from the cozy comfort of the bed.

She moved carefully as to not rouse the other woman who stirred a little but readily relaxed back down. Tissaia didn’t manage to extract herself entirely without disturbing someone. A pair of triangular ears popped over Yennefer’s thighs followed by yellow-green eyes squinting suspiciously at her. Anica had returned in the night and tucked herself behind Yennefer’s legs in the bend of her knee, but like her flat mate the cat curled back up and continued to doze as Tissaia retreated to the bathroom to relieve herself.

On her way back out of the bathroom, she grabbed a flannel robe hanging on the back of the door to wrap herself in then crept quietly to the living room area. As much as she wanted to return to the bed, Tissaia oddly felt too alert to lay back down so she opted to sink into the somewhat lumpy cushions of the couch. The lamp had been left on from the night before though the orange light that shone from it not much stronger than the cool light that steady filled the apartment. The radiator grumbled quietly keeping the room toasty, while a chilled draft leaked through the kitchen window. Tissaia enjoyed the stillness, thinking a steaming cup of coffee would be wonderful but unwilling to brave the unfamiliar kitchen and risk waking the slumbering woman. Looking at the coffee table before her she recalled that Yennefer had used the underside to store her files on the missing girls. She sat forward to slide her hands beneath the surface, searching for them, thinking it would not hurt to look over them a second time while she waited for Yennefer to rise.

Her hands felt along the unfinished wood of the underside of the table until she found something wedged into a slat. When she pulled it out though, Tissaia was puzzled to find this case file was older and thinner than one of the ones she remembered, the darker brown folder pliant and edges foxed with age. The detective inspector flipped over it to see the front and a lump instantly formed in her throat. On the faded label it read, ‘MISPER-1985.12tf, Philippa Eilhart’ in the bulbous font of an old typewriter. With trembling hands she opened the report. She was immediately faced with the school picture of Philippa with her braided pigtails and bubblegum lip-gloss and girlish grin. The image had been posted all over town and air on the news with the plaintive request for anyone to come forward with any information. No one ever did though. And Tissaia could not decide what had been worse, seeing her friend’s picture plastered everywhere, haunting her, or when the pictures started to fade, her hope of seeing Philippa again fading along with them.

She flipped the photograph over so she would have to look at it and began rifling through the other papers. The report itself was sparse, a vague profile of who the girl had been of her age, height and weight. Then there were distraught statements from her parents, worried or unhelpful ones from some of her teachers and a brief, solemn one from a six-year-old Sabrina. She was surprised to find that Philippa’s biological father had actually been tracked down and ruled out as a suspect. Still there was a lot of information missing from the investigation, questions not asked and therefore left unanswered, time lost when she was originally considered a runaway. Tissaia’s eyes skimmed an interview and she suddenly realized she recognized the facts on the page. It was her own statement she gave to an officer who had finally come around to her house after Philippa had already been gone for two weeks. She’d answered his perfunctory question on the couch sandwiched between her parents with her voice quivering as the constable jotted down her word in a small notebook. What the officer had typed out in his report was accurate but shallow, lacking the details and nuances that Tissaia remembered about the last time she had seen her best friend.

_It was Friday. But that hardly mattered since it was the middle of summer break. Tissaia and Philippa had ridden their bikes to the edge of town as was their custom when the weather was sunny and fair, and they wanted to be alone. They walked through the sun-soaked grass to the big elder tree, lying in the cooler haven of its shadow. A pleasant breeze drifted over their skin, carrying the sound of songbirds and the delicate, floral smell of the small white flowers blossoming in the tree above them._

_The girls lay close together, their shoulder touching, and heads tilted together as they silently watched the branches sway above them. Tissaia still felt blissful from just having Philippa’s lips on hers, familiar and exciting all at once. They’d been exploring this physical part of their relationship all summer and it had been steadily progressing. Making-out lead to kissing necks to roaming hands to slipping them underneath thin t-shirts and finding soft skin. With exhilaration Tissaia remembered the feeling of a moment ago when her hand had been on Philippa’s breast and Philippa had slid her hands down to cup her bottom. It had felt like a revelation that made her head swim and her entire being throb. Part of her wanted to know what happened after, but they were not quite ready yet. They pulled apart, panting lightly with amazed smiles to take a needed break. As thrilling as their kissing was, Tissaia was content to let the afternoon pass lazily around them and enjoy the little patch of splendor with her best friend._

_“What do you want to do?” Philippa asked suddenly._

_“Right now?” Tissaia wrinkled her forehead confused._

_“No.” Her friend rolled her eyes as if her meaning were obvious. “I mean, when we get out of Sodden Hill. What do you want to do?”_

_Tissaia didn’t have to consider the question for long before answering, “I’ll go to university and study criminology so I can become a detective someday.”_

_“How- how can you be so sure?” Philippa sounded baffled by her certainty._

_“I just know that’s what I want to do.” She found it difficult to describe, almost like trying to explain how one knew to breath. Tissaia craned her neck to awkwardly look at her friend’s face that was too close as she asked, “What about you? What do you want to do when we get of out here?”_

_A look of frustration overtook her expression as she said, “I know what I don’t want to do. I don’t want to be a housewife changing nappies and cooking dinner every night for my husband returned from the farm…”_

_Her lips pursed in disgust at the thought, then she sighed, “But I don’t know what I want.”_

_“You’ve got time to figure it out. We’re only sixteen. Well, you are, and I’ll be next month.” Tissaia comforted her with an understanding smile, turning back to look up at the sunlight speckled leaves. It was too lovely a day to spend it worrying about what might lay ahead for them. After a peaceful moment of twittering birds and hushed rustling leaves, Tissaia asked, “Do you want to spend the night tonight?”_

_She proposed the question but knew her friend would automatically, enthusiastically agree. Despite it being the summertime, their parents made the rule that sleepovers were only regulated to the weekend to help create some boundaries. The last few weeks had been perfect for Tissaia as she and Philippa spent the vast majority of their time together, swimming at a secluded spot along the river, hunting for wild blackberry brambles, watching horror movies on rainy days and then each activity devolving into ardent kisses. They of course spent time with other friends, sunbathing at the pool with Rita, going to the cinema with the boys, attending parties, but nothing like what had happened at Stephen’s party had occurred much to Tissaia’s relief._

_“I can’t tonight.” The answer paused all of her happy thoughts._

_Her brow dipped in confusion, “Why not?”_

_Philippa glanced at her then shut her eyes as if she were simply basking in the sunshine and not avoiding her, “I can’t. I’ve got a date.”_

_“What?” The word came out alarmed as she propped herself up on her elbows to look down at her friend, but Philippa seemed unperturbed as she stretched lightly._

_“You know, Tiss. A date, a guy and a girl going out with romantic intentions.” She said with no lack of sarcasm._

_“Who are you going on a date with?” Her brain shuffled through all the boys they knew and combed through for any hint of interest from Philippa in any of them. Any feelings towards Johnathan and Stephen had cooled considerably and Tissaia couldn’t think of anyone that Philippa had been eyeing as of late however came up blank._

_“You wouldn’t know him.” She said lightly. “I met him at church.”_

_Tissaia had not gone with her family to church in a while but she found it hard to believe that she wouldn’t know the boy, “Is he new to town?”_

_“It’s none of your business.” Philippa finally reopened her eyes and huffed when she saw Tissaia staring at her with crushed disbelief. “Why are you looking at me like that?”_

_“I thought…”_

_“You thought what?”_

_“I thought that we were togeth-“_

_Before she could even finish, Philippa quickly sat up as she angrily ejected, “Stop, you can’t be serious. It’s not possible. God Tissaia, say something like that again and I’ll take your head off.”_

_Tissaia felt as though she were floundering. They still had not spoken about the nature of their relationship but after the summer they’d had she felt like they didn’t need to discuss the particulars; they were together. Part of her wanted to backtrack, say forget it and move on. However, another part of her was angry, indignant and would not be ignored any longer, “Screw you Philippa. What have we been doing then? I know you like attention, but I didn’t realize you were a slag too.”_

_Philippa whipped around in shock at her statement. She glared, “And I didn’t realize you were a dyke.”_

_The slur stung horribly but she was too furious at this point to pause to be hurt. “Better than being a fucking hypocrite. You use people, Philippa. You use them, then cast them aside when you’re through. You’re just a selfish, cruel child who never got enough attention from her parents.”_

_Blinking at this, Philippa’s jaw dropped open though she had nothing to say. Tissaia felt regret seeping into her at the words she’d said in the heat of the moment. The other girl turned away from her, “If that’s how you feel, then maybe we shouldn’t be anything.”_

_The regret formed a bubble in her throat, “I only meant-“_

_“I know what you meant, and it’s not like that.” Philippa stood suddenly. “I’ve got to go.”_

_“Philippa, wait.” She stood up as well to go after her._

_“No, leave me alone, Tissaia.” Her tone like hard ice that halted Tissaia in her tracks. Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched her best friend walk away from her, having no idea that the harsh words they’d exchanged would have been their last._

“You’re awake early.” The sleep-rough voice snapped her out of the memory. Tissaia startled as her eyes swept over to look at Yennefer sitting up in bed with the sheets wrapped around her. She was disastrously beautiful, but the softness of the morning had abruptly evaporated leaving her feeling chilled and sharp like a hollow north wind.

Tissaia found herself staring as she dully said, “Yes.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll start some coffee.” Yennefer rose from her bed and disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged only a few minutes later, her hair had been tamed slightly and she had on a silky black robe. The younger woman scooped up the cat from the end of the bed where she arranged herself to watch the door as if waiting for Yennefer. Scratching behind Anica’s ears, Yennefer moved out of the bedroom alcove with a faint smile on her lips and a glint in her eyes that Tissaia wished she could return.

Instead she found herself asking with more force than was strictly necessary, “Why do you have this file?”

“The Philippa Eilhart file?” Yennefer peered at the paperwork scattered on the table, sounding a little perplexed at her attitude. “When Abigail first went missing, I pulled the cold case to see if there were any similarities in the disappearances. It’s not often girls are kidnapped around here so it seemed like a logical place to start.”

“And did you find any connections?”

“No, but the missing person’s report for Philippa Eilhart leaves much to be desired. They considered her a runaway initially, so they lost time there and then the investigation was poorly documented.” Yennefer set the cat down on the armrest of the couch. The gray tabby jumped to the back of the sofa and made herself into a loaf, her eyes easily shutting once again despite having only just woken. Yennefer continued as she looked over Tissaia’s shoulder, “Like that, the interview with the friend who saw her last. They didn’t even include her name.”

The detective inspector quickly read over the page again and realized that the officer had indeed either accidentally or intentionally neglected to record her name in the report. Yennefer headed into the kitchen and started filling up the kettle at the sink. As she did she asked, “Did you know Philippa as well? She was Sabrina’s sister. Not that she ever wanted to talk about it.”

“Yes, I knew her.” Tissaia said quietly, gathering up the papers to shut them away in the folder.

“Did you know her mystery friend? I wanted to reinterview her but there wasn’t much to go on to find her.”

Tissaia didn’t respond, still feeling foggy from the memory she had fallen into, unable to articulate how intimately she’d known Philippa. She could hear the solid clank of the copper kettle being set down on the oven then when she still hadn’t said anything, Yennefer tentatively called to her, “Tissaia?”

“It was me.” She croaked out the confession. “I’m the friend who saw her last.”

“ _Oh._ ” Yennefer said with heavy realization like the way the kettle settled resolutely against the burner. The detective sergeant padded across the room, coming around to situate herself on the end of the couch. She seemed to observe Tissaia with a new wariness. “You said you knew Sabrina from growing up here.”

“I knew her through Philippa.” Tissaia explained but couldn’t say anymore. Her throat was too tight. They got caught in silence with Tissaia feeling raw and exposed. Yennefer had on one of her unreadable expressions, but she felt as though she could decipher moments of it; interested and brimming with questions, some sympathy, perhaps a flash of betrayal at only now finding out this information. Finally the other woman slouched back into the couch, dragging her fingers through her raven hair, seeming to let go of the storm of thoughts that had brewed in her.

“I’m sorry.” She offered as she dismally looked at the old, useless folder. “Someone is going to a lot of trouble to frame Malcolm for this. It’s a shame they didn’t just try to pin it on this guy.”

Tissaia nodded vaguely in agreement. An already missing girl, even being 20 years ago, made for an easier scapegoat than trying to conjure up evidence against a quiet family man; if she didn’t know any better she would say it felt like the perpetrator was purposefully leading them away from the original disappearance. Then an idea clicked with her, “Someone is going to a lot of trouble to make the police think that they have the right man going down for this.”

“That’s what I just said.” Yennefer arched an eyebrow at her.

“Why would someone go to all the trouble to implicate Istredd?” Tissaia asked earnestly.

“So everyone will think he is the killer, which is exactly what the real killer wants.” The younger detective said like the answer were obvious.

“But he can’t get away with killing a second time, not with Istredd in custody.”

Tissaia could see understanding develop in Yennefer as she landed on the conclusion that she had hinted at, “…You’re saying you think Poppy’s still alive?”

“I think she might be. I think it’s possible.” She confirmed. Excitement sparked between them for what this could mean for the cases. It would be absolutely extraordinary, but these types of killers did not simply stop killing unless they achieved what they wanted. And if he still had Poppy then he wouldn’t need to kidnap again, he had his prize.

“We should go talk to Stregobor.” Tissaia stood and begin to search for her lost clothing.

Yennefer scoffed, “No we shouldn’t. He won’t even entertain the idea that someone else may be involved.”

“That’s what we have to convince him.” She found her shirt, picking it up to inspect how wrinkled it had become crumpled up on the floor.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Yennefer had followed her from the couch and now stood in front of her with her arms crossed.

“What other option do we have?”

After a moment of reflection, Yennefer sighed in resignation, “Alright, we’ll go talk to Stregobor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone got their fill of lovely, soft detectives because we are back with our regularly scheduled programming. 
> 
> Would love to read your lovely comments on this chapter. And please send your thoughts and prayers for the bees.


	14. Some Accusations

Tissaia kept her coat buttoned up to hide the wrinkled appearance of her clothing from them spending the night strewn on the floor of Yennefer’s flat. Yennefer had on fresh clothes, a creamy cable-knit sweater underneath her black blazer looked nice though her hair had been gathered in a low ponytail and there was a wary shadow under her eyes that tarnished her polished appearance. The atmosphere around the office was still in the early stages of waking, a couple uniformed offices loitering around the coffeepot, a trilling phone going unanswered somewhere, the rustling sound of the few people going through morning paperwork. Yennefer seemed to sulk next to Tissaia as they walked through the halls of the police station back toward the detective chief inspector’s office.

The younger woman had really been sulking since they’d had abandoned plans for a cup of coffee and hurriedly gotten dressed to speak with the senior investigating officer. Tissaia felt sullen herself, from the painful risen memory, from the uneasy tension that followed them around through their unfamiliar routine with each other. The look on Yennefer’s face, with the traces of betrayal, when she learned of her history with Philippa Eilhart hung in the back of her mind but there was no time to stop and talk about it; personal issues would have to wait. Yennefer must have felt the same as she held her tongue and pushed through the morning. She caught sight of her boss first, calling out to his back as he walked down the corridor, “DCI Stregobor.”

He turned and did little to hide his displeasure when he saw the two women approaching him. The higher-ranking detective wore a sharp navy suit with a satiny tie that made him look like an upmarket businessman from the city, giving him a far finer look than from the first time she’d seen him in his stodgy brown suit. Stregobor buried his nose back into file he was carrying, “DI DeVries, DS Vengerberg, I see you two have met. Wonderful.”

“Nice to you see you again as well.” Tissaia ignored the insincerity dripping from his tone and critically eyed his stylish attire. “You’re looking flash.”

He gave her a tight smile, “I’m due in court in a bit so whatever this is will have to be done quickly.”

“We wanted to speak with you about the potential that Poppy is still alive.” Yennefer said abruptly, making the man pause and look at her with a stunned expression.

“Let’s continue this conversation in my office.” He lowered his voice and glared around as he led them the last stretch to his office. As the door snapped shut behind them he asked begrudgingly as he walked around to sit behind his desk, “Now what’s all this about?”

Tissaia glanced at Yennefer who had silently receded to lean against the back wall as she stared distrustfully at Stregobor. She turned to look at the man as well, starting to talk when she realized Yennefer wouldn’t, “Right, so, when was the last time the woods were searched where the body was found?”

“You mean the last time the woods were searched before the body was found, yes?” He asked prickly, sounding already fed up with the conversation. He made a helpless shrug, “I’d need to check to be absolutely sure. The search was a nightmare because of all the floods.”

“Well the woods weren’t flooded. They never get flooded.” Tissaia pointed out. She had lived through many rainy seasons in Sodden Hill and Brokilon Forest sat on higher ground, no matter how much it rained the woods remained unflooded.

He scratched at his beard, “I’m talking about the organization side of it.”

“Oh.” She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to get her the information but he made no move to rifle through the paperwork on his desk or reach for a filing cabinet.

“I’d need to check.” He leaned stubbornly back in his chair. “Why?”

“I was out there the other day-”

“Out having a stroll, were you?”

She didn't acknowledge his snide question, “That place is a dog walker’s heaven, morning, noon and night, so why did it take until recently for one of them to find her?”

“I don’t know. Could be just down to chance. All I know is that the body was down there before we picked up Istredd.” Stregobor said resolutely.

“But what if the killer only made it appear as she she’d been in the ground for that long?”

“And how would he do that?” He asked with an exaggerated look of puzzlement on his face.

Tissaia braced her hands again the back of the chair in front of her as she cautiously tried to explain their hypothesis without completely revealing they had read the full autopsy report. “He could have frozen the body, that interferes with determining time of death. And for the insect activity, he could have planted the bugs from an alternative source.”

“Well, that’s elaborate.” Stregobor scoffed in disbelief. “Where exactly would he had obtained live insects?”

Her mouth dropped open, her brain rushing for an answer but unable to come up with anything. However, Yennefer suddenly interjected with her own revelation, “The pigs from Bogg’s farm.”

“Certainly, you aren’t accusing Calvin Bogg’s of murder seeing as he just confessed his way into an alibi only hours ago.” The detective chief inspector raised his eyebrows at her and Tissaia turned to look in confusion at her statement as well.

“Not the pigs on his farm, the ones that have been stolen.” Yennefer clarified. Recognition flashed in Tissaia’s eyes as the young detective went on, “Boggs has been telling anyone with an ear that he’s had piglets go missing. The timeline just about matches with the missing girls. He said two have gone missing this month, probably about three weeks ago.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Tissaia said eagerly as she recalled the rambling accusations of the farmer which were now less nonsensical. “That would line up perfectly for the insects present. We need to interview Bogg’s to see if he has any idea about who is taking the pigs.”

Stregobor held up his hands in a thwarting motion, “Even if the stolen livestock has something to do with the missing girls, which I highly doubt, Calvin’s testimony is nearly useless. Most nights, and days for that matter, the only thing holding him up is a bar top.”

“So we just don’t try?” Tissaia asked narrowly.

“I’m telling you he’s all nonsense. I heard he was yammering in the tank last night about how it was the preacher’s son been nicking the pigs. Then he was swearing up and down it was that buffoon of a music teacher.” He dismissed.

“His name is Jaskier.” Yennefer spoke up, glaring at him venomously and sounding somewhat protective of the man despite the obvious annoyance Tissaia remembered her directing toward him at the pub. Stregobor paid no mind to her ire as he straightened out his slate gray neck tie, acting as if the task was a great preoccupation.

“Whatever. Next he’ll say it was little green men.” The man continued exasperated, “You haven’t said anything to convince me that Poppy could still be alive.”

Tissaia tried to get back on track, abandoning any pretense and speaking concisely, “There _is_ evidence that the body of Abigail has been tampered with to conceal her time of death. The killer wants it to appear as though she had been in the ground longer than she has been so it’s possible Istredd is responsible. With a someone behind bars for the crimes, the real killer wouldn’t be able to abduct anymore young women. He wouldn’t need to abduct anymore because he has what he wants: Poppy.”

“Hold on, you’re telling me your entire theory hinges on Malcolm Istredd being framed?” Before she could confirm or deny, the senior office continued condescendingly, “Let me stop you there before you waste anymore of my time. The DNA results came in earlier than expected this morning. The DNA on the fag ends came back as a match to Mr. Istredd. He has officially been charged with murder. It will be announced in about 10 minutes and then I’m headed to court after for his bail hearing.”

It was as if someone had sucked all of the sound out of the office after DCI Stregobor made his revelation. Tissaia’s thoughts were replaced with high-pitched static. She had not factored the DNA results into the picture they were shaping with the evidence they had. The inconsistencies in the autopsy report and the trail they followed to Calvin Boggs, though a dead end, was a promising narrative for an alternative suspect. In the back of her mind the detective inspector must have been aware that Istredd could be that suspect, but she had not really allowed herself to consider the possibility that the DNA could come back as his, that he was guilty. Now confronted with the results, Tissaia felt like she had been solving an elaborate math problem on a chalkboard and someone had come around suddenly and erased all of her work and simply told her the answer was 2.

“What?” Yennefer’s voice came out slightly strangled, then she let slip, “That can’t be.”

Stregobor looked as though he was trying to suppress a smug smile, “I assure you it is.”

Tissaia looked back at the younger woman, seeing the shock on her face giving way to anger. She asked, trying to make sense of it herself, “How many markers were used to make the match?”

“20 markers. There is a one and one billion chance that someone else murdered Abigail.” He rose from his seat then and went on with an infuriatingly placating tone, “Listen, I understand this is a high stakes case. And women are so emotional, of course you’ve let your imagination get the best of you.”

The sensation of molten anger throbbed through her veins, especially in her temples as she had to listen to Stregobor’s misogynistic sentiment. She exhaled heavily out her nose and tried to breath through the fiery resentment that made her vision go blurry around the edges. The man was truly infuriating but she did not want to rise to his antagonism.

“You fucking prick.” Yennefer seethed from behind her and Tissaia whipped around to be greeted by the sight of an absolutely livid woman. The younger detective had pushed off the wall, her eyes crackled with electric anger, her dark brow furrowed, and her jaw clenched so it jutted forward a little; she was gloriously enraged as she continued to fume, “You’ve done something. Malcolm wouldn’t, he couldn’t.”

“DS Vengerberg-“

“You planted evidence or mixed the samples.” Yennefer plowed on with her tirade, her voice coming out harsh and jagged as her emotions mounted, “Malcolm could never hurt those girls. He has been framed and I know you have something do to with it you sexist, racist son of a bitch-”

“ **DS Vengerberg.** ” DCI Stregobor boomed over her and the words abruptly stopped pouring from her mouth. Yennefer’s chest moved up and down heavily and she glared with her hands in tight fists at her sides as she clearly struggled to control herself. The senior officer took a moment to level her with his own hard stare, though Tissaia could also make out something like satisfaction in her expression as well, like he had caught her in his trap. Not bothering to address the accusations, Stregobor broke the silence, “DS Vengerberg, you’re suspended. Effective immediately. Leave your badge and gun on my desk now.”

Another tense bout of stillness; Tissaia remembered the argument she had overheard outside the office only a few days ago, remembered the threat Stregobor had made which had now come to fruition. She felt stunned, like she’d watched a car crash and had been powerless to stop it. Yennefer finally moved, pulling off the badge that hung around her neck and slamming it onto the desk then taking the gun out of its holster on her hip and unloading the magazine before tossing the disassembled firearm parts with her badge. Stripped of her shield and weapon, Yennefer leaned over his desk slightly and she said with disquieting calm, “This isn’t over.”

“We’ll see about that.” Stregobor’s lip ticked up briefly but quickly fell back into a thin grimace. Spinning on her heel, the younger detective tore out of the office like a bat out of hell. Tissaia met Stregobor’s flinty gaze, his eyes daring her to say something, but she still felt at a loss about how quickly everything had unraveled. She simply shook her head in disgust at him before dashing out to follow Yennefer. Tissaia entered the corridor in time to see her turning right around the corner and she ran to catch up, tracking Yennefer until burst out a side fire exit.

As the detective inspector pushed her way out of the door as well, she called out, “Yennefer wait!”

Yennefer had not gone far, pacing in a narrow alley like a caged panther. She hissed, “That conniving snake. He won’t get away with this. We’ve got to keep investigating-“

“Yennefer, stop. Just stop for a minute.” Tissaia tried to pacify her but she kept her frenetic anger.

“I can’t stop. Not when we’re so close to cracking the case.” Desperation leaked into her voice at the end.

“Yennefer.” She said with a firmness that finally gave her pause. With the dark-haired woman frozen and looking at her blankly, she stated seriously, “You are pure chaos right now. You have to stop and think about this rationally.”

“I don’t understand.” Yennefer said slowly.

“There is your career to think about.”

“My career?” She asked as if appalled. “An innocent man is being framed for murder. I don’t care about my career, I care about doing the right thing, I care about justice.”

“And what if you’re wrong? What if Istredd did take the girls?” As she raised the questions, Yennefer staggered back a half step as if she had received a physical blow.

Her mouth fell open in a momentarily stunned expression before her brow darkened once, the fury flaring in her eyes once again though now it was directed at Tissaia, “You think he’s guilty. You’re on Stregobor’s side.”

Tissaia flinched at the ire directed at her. Rubbing her hand across her forehead frustratedly, she tried to explain, “Jesus, there are no sides. We’re all on the same side trying to find the right person responsible.”

“And you think that person is Istredd.” Yennefer said flatly, pressing her to say what she was thinking.

“I… don’t know. I think it’s a possibility.” Tissaia let her arms fall slack at her sides. Everything was muddled in her mind. The sure path they had been tracing suddenly seemed irrelevant. She thought of the allegations the detective sergeant made against Stregobor, and while her claim of him being a misogynistic prick was accurate, she could not quite believe that he would go so far as to tamper with evidence. The simplest explanation was usually correct, and a heartbreaking reality emerged.

“He didn’t do it Tissaia.” Yennefer’s face softened and her eyes glistening with barely restrained emotion as she implored Tissaia to believe in that with her.

She could only look on helplessly though as she shook her head, “The DNA came back as a match. We’ve done all we could... What more do you want from me?”

The alley was scarcely two meters wide, but they might as well have been on opposite sides of a ravine, the air chasmic and cold between them. Tissaia could only watch as Yennefer’s gaze went from watery soft to unforgivingly hard and then she sharply turned away from her entirely. She spoke with vicious finality, “Nothing. I want nothing from you DI DeVries.”

She started down the alley. Tissaia lurched forward as she called out once more with a pleading tone, “Yennefer…”

The younger detective halted but didn’t turn back around. “They’ll be making the announcement of the arrest soon. Sabrina will need your support. You should go.”

Then in the next moment she was gone. Tissaia felt hollow. She wanted to go after Yennefer, to pull her into her arms and hold her together while everything fell apart. The way the woman had said _nothing_ in answer to her question echoed in the empty feeling space in her chest and Tissaia knew that her touch would not be welcome. Besides, she had to press on for Sabrina. Pulling out her phone, she started typing out a message to Vilgefortz to let him know what was going on and she made her way out to the street.

-

The courtroom was small and bleak, only designed for petty civil suits and minor misdemeanors rather than the grandiosity that capital murder generally required. The benches were packed with stern officers, eager reporters, bereft family members and any other townsfolk that had managed to grab a seat. Despite the fullness of the room, it was unnervingly quiet. Only the shuffling of papers and some hushed murmurs floated through the air as everyone waited with rapt anticipation.

Tissaia sat next to Sabrina who seemed the quietest of anyone. When she had gone around to collect the blonde, she had been nearly catatonic, barely saying a word to her as they headed to the courthouse. The only indication she was registering her surrounding was the vice-like grip she had on Tissaia’s hand. Finally a bailiff stood next to the judge’s bench, “All rise.”

Automatically everyone stood creating a great scuffle as the judge made her entrance. Quickly she took her position motioning for the room to sit, “You may be seated.”

“Please bring Malcom Istredd to the dock.” The bailiff ordered next.

Two constables emerged from the small side door with Istredd escorted between them. His wrists were handcuffed in front of him and he had been given an ill-fitting suit to wear for his hearing. He seemed to stumble when he walked in and he had a frightened, bewildered look on his face as all eyes turned to stare at him. When they had him standing at the rail of the dock, the judge requested formally, “Please confirm your name, address and date of birth.”

The defendant leaned forward slightly while he started to answer in a tremulous tone, “Malcolm Owen Istredd-“

“You’ll have to speak up.” The judge asserted over him.

“Malcom Owen Istredd.” He raised his voice, his baritone sounding forced, “359 Rockford Lane, Sodden Hill. November 30th, 1985.”

The judge looked through her paperwork as she recited, “You’re charged with the offense of murder, at an unknown place and date, you murdered Abigail Johnson, which is contrary to common law. You’re also charged with two counts of kidnapping of Abigail Johnson and Poppy Toms. Do you want to indicate your pleas today?”

“Not guilty.”

At his muted declaration, the courtroom erupted with a hum of disapproving wonderment. Sabrina’s grip on her hand tightened and Tissaia swallowed hard as the proceedings continued. The defense lawyer stood from his seat, regarding the judge with a respectful nod, “There will be no application for bail out of concern for my client’s safety.”

“These charges are so serious I’m sending them to Cintra Crown Court.” The judge ruled with practicality, “Your case will be listed two days from today for a bail hearing before the crown court when a date will be fixed for the preliminary hearing. Take him down.”

Tissaia sensed Sabrina craning next to her to keep sight of Istredd until the last possible moment. The detective gently laid her other hand warmly over top Sabrina’s tense one, trying to convey comfort even at the hollowness in her chest expanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert Harley Quinn voiceover from Birds of Prey here*
> 
> Let me drop a little Halloween treat here for you. Just kidding it's a trick!
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, the pot brownie kicked in at the end. I'll fix them later. Hope you like the update and would love to hear what you think :)


	15. 3:49

Tissaia woke to her still dark bedroom and her phone blaring next to her ear. After a moment of confusion, she realized it was a phone call and not her alarm. Propping herself up on her elbow, she grabbed the device at the last minute and swiped her thumb across the screen to answer, her voice dry and automatic, “DI DeVries.”

She blinked at the clock on the nightstand, trying to comprehend that the time read 3:49 as the person on the other end spoke with jarring clarity, “DI DeVries, this is DC Neyd.”

“Yes, what is it? What’s happened?” Her gut twisted knowing nothing good was going to come next.

“There was an incident at the jail involving Istredd... He was stabbed by another inmate.”

“Oh my god. Is he going to be alright?” Tissaia sat up all the way in bed now, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

“He’s in surgery now but the doctor said the prognosis was good. It seems none of his vital organs were hit.” She then added, “He was lucky.”

Tilting her head back and shutting her eyes, she thought about how untrue that statement was. Malcolm Istredd was the opposite of lucky. If he were lucky, he would be at home sleeping with his wife not being sewn back together in an operating theater and still facing murder charges in the morning. She thought of Sabrina and remembered the conversation they had in the car after leaving the courthouse. The younger woman had asked why the attorney hadn’t requested bail; her voice so quiet that Tissaia nearly missed the question. She could only guess but with the sensation and outrage surrounding the crimes, the defense perhaps thought it was safest for Istredd to remain separated from the local population and anyone who might decide to take justice in their own hands.

Tissaia explained it but she knew the logic was flawed because even amongst criminals there was a hierarchy and men who hurt children were ranked at the very bottom finding themselves in a dangerous position. Her belief that the man would be in some sort of protective custody had been misguided apparently as she found herself sitting up in bed at a strange hour in the morning trying to grasp the dreadful situation. _What a goddamn mess_. An image of Yennefer doing something similar flashed in her mind. Did she know? Was she fuming and pacing the constrained length of her apartment or sitting on her slightly sunken couch frantically pouring over files splayed on the coffee table in search of a missed clue? Or was she standing at her kitchen sink, looking out the window with hot, angry tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as she refused to let them fall?

“Does she know?” DI Vries voice croaked then she cleared her throat, “Does Sabrina know?”

She asked after Mrs. Istredd, but the detective sergeant remained stubbornly at the forefront of her thoughts. DC Neyd continued solemnly, “Yes. Yes, she is actually down at the hospital now. She’s… upset. It would be best if you got down here.”

As she was saying this, Tissaia was already on her feet with her cell phone pinched between her ear and shoulder as she reached for her shirt draped over the back of the vanity chair. “Is she at SH General?”

“Yes-“

“I’ll be there in 10.” If Coral had anything more to say, it was cutoff as she hung up the phone so Tissaia could start hastily pulling off her pajamas. She didn’t think now, just moved quickly and efficiently to get herself ready to leave the house. Forgetting to be quiet as she jogged down the stairs, Vilgefortz startled awake from her noise.

“Tissaia? What is it? Where are you going?” He half-whispered in bewilderment.

Reaching for the doorknob, she relayed while in motion, “Istredd has been attacked and put in hospital. I’ve got to go.”

-

The tires hummed against the asphalt and the car headlights easily cut through the thin darkness of the early morning hours as she drove down the empty streets. In the peculiar in between time of night and day it felt as though she sat still, and the scenery moved fluidly around her. The sensation followed Tissaia as the automated doors slid open with a whoosh for her and she stepped into the white, sterile lighting of the hospital lobby. At this time, the hospital was eerily quiet with a weary but diligent nurse stationed at the front desk and a couple people coughing in the rows of poorly padded chairs waiting to be seen by a truant doctor. Before DI DeVries could properly look around DC Neyd was suddenly at her right elbow.

“Follow me.” She said brusquely and started toward the set of double doors by the front desk. Wordlessly, Tissaia did as instructed as Coral flashed her badge at the nurse who apparently hit a button at her desk causing the doors to buzz and swing open dramatically. The younger detective led her down the corridors of the hospital, everything bright with crisp outlines and disorienting with the minimal variation in the surrounding they passed through. They arrived at a bank of elevators where DC Neyd the hit up-arrow button, and they watched the numbers above the door light up as it descended. Disembodied sneakers squeaked down a hall, a monotone voice paged for a doctor over the tinny PA system, and some hospital equipment chimed ominously at a distance before the elevator doors finally pried themselves open.

The two detectives stepped into the empty compartment and DC Neyd pressed her thumb to the 4th floor button so it glowed orange. They were silent on their ascent, but their postures spoke for them. Looking down at the ground and fidgeting, the detective constable appeared uncomfortable and perhaps contrite about how this had played out. Tissaia felt contained with no place for her resentment to go, clenched jaw and arms folded tightly across her torso it circuited around her body like an electric current. There was a livid rant stuck in her head that she wanted to let loose then as the metal doors grated open it was as if Tissaia could suddenly hear her thoughts being shouted. Eyes widening, she pushed out of the elevator and immediately found the source.

On the new floor there was another nurse station straight ahead with a couple nurses in powder-pink scrubs watching the scene in front of them with concern. More bleak rows of seats meant for family members as they waited for news were set in front of the desk, but the chairs were now empty as Tissaia’s eyes landed on Sabrina who was squared up with a bedraggled DCI Stregobor and looking unlike her normal tidy, reserved self in a men’s trench coat overtop her pajamas. She shouted at the man, “This is all your fault. He was supposed to be safe in custody. You can’t-“

“Now Mrs. Istredd-“

“No! You can’t treat people like this. What happened to presumption of innocence? He deserves a trial, he deserves protections!” Sabrina actually shoved him now as tears began to fall down her cheeks and her voice cracked, “He’s a human being!”

Tissaia who had frozen a few paces from the scene was spurred into action as she rushed forward to try and collect Sabrina before she physically lashed out again. Getting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, she tried to calm her lest the chief inspector decide to book her for assaulting an officer of the law, “Come on, Sabrina. He’s not worth the breath.”

The distraught women whipped around, anger flickering in her blood shot eyes at Tissaia but it quickly snuffed out as her shoulders slumped and face crumpled. She gestured helplessly, “I just don’t understand how this happened. Malcolm is a good man. He’s a good man…”

Sabrina then took the few steps forward, pressed her face down into Tissaia’s shoulder and cried. The detective wrapped her arms around the other woman, surprised at the sudden contact but tried her best to be comforting, “Sometimes bad things happen, and we’ll never know why.”

“I can’t do this without him.” Sabrina sobbed and Tissaia knew she was thinking about their baby as she was very aware of the roundness of her stomach awkwardly between them.

“You’re strong, stronger than you know. And you’ve got good friends and family that will help you see this through. It will be all right.” She said with blind, perhaps doomed, hope. “Somehow it will be all right.”

Sabrina didn’t respond to this, just continued to cry her fear and heartache into her coat while Tissaia tentatively rubbed her back. Her tears had subsided to occasionally sniffles when a deep voice prompted her to lift her head, “Are you the family of Malcolm Istredd?”

They turned to find an older man in rumpled but clean green scrubs and a surgical cap. The blonde stepped out of Tissaia’s arms and went fervently, urgently toward the doctor, “Yes, that’s me. I’m Sabrina Istredd. I’m his wife.”

“I’m Dr. Hawthorne. I operated on your husband. Malcolm’s just come out of surgery. It went very well, and we expect he’ll make a full recovery.” The man explained quickly to immediately lessen the tension.

“Oh thank god.” Sabrina gasped, her hand flew up to cover her mouth and fresh tears started to leak out of her eyes. Tissaia felt the momentary relief wash over herself as well, though it was a brief reprieve from the events of the past few days. The detective inspector glanced behind her with a glare at Stregobor who stood there uselessly and told him sharply, “We could use some privacy.”

He seemed like he might protest but thought better of it and reluctantly snapped his mouth shut. Sulking around them, he joined DC Neyd still standing at the elevators. As the Sodden Hill officers departed, the doctor offered for them to take a seat while he went into more detail how the operation went. Sabrina listened intently, her tears drying up as the doctor described how Malcom had been stabbed in the abdomen, the shank slipping through his ribs and nicking his left lung. The knife had not pierced the lung entirely through though and it had been repaired with relative ease. He had also received some blows to the face and head, but a CT scan had shown that he didn’t have a concussion, the damage was merely superficial. The doctor said he had been lucky; again that misused word grated on her nerves. Tissaia stayed quiet and calm though as she held Sabrina’s trembling hand.

“He will be staying in hospital for a few days.” The doctor concluded. “We want to have him on IV antibiotics to ensure he doesn’t get any infections… Do you have any questions?”

“What-” Her voice came out weak and rough so she cleared her throat, “What will happen to Malcolm when he has to leave the hospital?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to speak with the police about that.” He gave her a deeply sympathetic look.

Sabrina nodded slowly, then asked, “Can I see him?”

“Yes, of course. As soon as he wakes up, he’ll be brought down to this floor. You can wait here, and the nurse will come and get you when he’s ready.” The doctor paused respectfully to see if Sabrina had any more questions. When she sank back in her seat and seemed to recede into herself, Dr. Hawthorne rose to his feet.

“If you need anything, you can ask the nurses at the desk here.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Tissaia said as he left while Sabrina only nodded vaguely in acknowledgement.

The women sat in a seemingly shell-shocked state after he made his leave. The nurse behind the desk came around to offer them Styrofoam cups of steaming tea, which they took without thought. They were silent for a long moment, sipping the scalding brew with cream that did little to cut the bitterness of it. Still, Tissaia was grateful for the warmth as an odd, cold sensation had settle in her stomach. Sabrina spoke suddenly, “You must really think of me as a fool now.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion at the unprompted statement, “How do you mean?”

“Despite everything I still don’t believe he could have done this.” Tears welled in her eyes once again, but she held them back.

Tissaia shook her head and shifted up in her seat to better look at her, “You’re not a fool. Regardless of everything, the man you know wouldn’t commit these crimes.”

“I just-“ She swallowed down a wavering tone. “I can’t give up on him.”

“You’re not the only one who hasn’t given up on him.” Tissaia said, making Sabrina focus on her with a searching look in her eyes as she tried to decipher her meaning. The detective waited until she saw a spark of recognition before going on, “She is looking for the truth more than you know.”

She didn’t say Yennefer’s name, still a bit wary that it could upset Sabrina. However the younger woman didn’t scowl and bristle the way she had before when they’d run into the detective sergeant; instead, she nodded in silent understanding as she again receded into her own thoughts. Tissaia decided not to push, she would have to go to Yennefer in her own time.

After a beat, Sabrina changed the topic, “My parents are coming back. They should be back late tomorrow night, maybe the next morning.”

“That’s good.” Tissaia left a modicum of relief that reinforcements were on the way.

“They insisted after how the preliminary trail went.” She shook her head forlornly, her eyes slipping shut against the futility of it all, “God, this is a right dog’s dinner.”

“I know some lawyers, good lawyers, who could help with your case.”

“Really?” Sabrina brightened for a second then immediately looked worried again, “We don’t have loads of money.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll get it sorted. I can make some calls if you want.” Working in law enforcement, Tissaia had come to know a few defense attorneys. It wasn’t quite like on television or in movies where they pitted were against one another with the greasy, morally-corrupted lawyer tried to get the serial killer off on a technicality. A small number were a bit smarmy to be certain but mostly they were like colleagues who worked in a different department, they both just wanted to see justice done. Malcolm Istredd deserved to have someone in his corner looking after his rights throughout the trial process regardless of anything else.

“Thank you, that would be- thank you.” Sabrina sighed out.

“Mrs. Istredd?” A nurse called out softly to them. The women turned around as she was hanging up a phone. She continued, “Your husband is in his room now. I can take you to see him.”

Sabrina stood quickly and Tissaia followed suit. The nurse came around to lead them down one of the four halls that branched out of each corner of the waiting room. This corridor felt somehow quieter in the already muted, predawn hospital, like sound was absorbed into the white walls and white floor rather than vibrating through the air. The blonde glanced around nervous and eager as they walked until they arrived at the last closed door on the left.

“Only one visitor at a time.” The nurse told them.

Tissaia encouragingly placed her hand on Sabrina’s upper arm, “I’ll take a walk around. Take your time, I’ll be here.”

Her chin ticked down resolutely as she turned to the door and the nurse swung it open silently. Tissaia could hear Sabrina’s breath catch in her throat as she saw her husband laid out in the hospital bed. The room was dim, but a fluorescent light above the headboard cast enough of a glow to show a mottled, blue bruise that started under the man’s eye stretching across his cheek and his lower lip was swollen with a maroon split in it. Hooked up to an IV and oxygen tube in his nose, Istredd’s complexion was pallid, though his chest moved slowly and reassuringly under the blue hospital gown. There was a tense moment, like the few seconds before jumping off a cliff, then Sabrina stepped forward.

The nurse left with a tight-lipped smile for Tissaia however the detective felt compelled to linger, watching as the blonde tentatively crept to her husband’s bedside. She gazed down at him with an expression with too many emotions for it to be readable; sadness, fear, reverence, love all bled together on her face. When Sabrina reached out to gently brush her finger across Malcolm’s forehead, his eyes pried open. At the first sight of his wife, a smile grew on his face, one of waking up late on a Sunday morning to the love of your life and a cup of coffee. He reached his hand out to her, to her rounded stomach, however it halted abruptly with a little, definitive clinking sound. His wrist was handcuffed to the bed rail. Sabrina fell into him then, pushing forward to close the distance between herself and his outstretched hand. He gingerly caressed the swell of her belly as she pressed her forehead to his, tears springing to her eyes and his as well. Tissaia could see their mouths moving as they murmured to one another, but she couldn’t make out their words.

The inspector turned away from them then and started briskly down the hallway, suddenly realizing she interluded on a private moment. Breathing out heavily, she resolved to take a walk and update Vilgefortz who was probably waiting for news. If she took her phone out of her pocket she would assuredly have worried text messages from him that she would address shortly. For now Tissaia could only walk away from the heart-broken couple, feeling confused and directionless, her thoughts unbiddenly finding their way to Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love how life gets in the way and then you post a chapter that does little to move the plot forward?
> 
> I know I love it too. Hope everyone enjoys the update. Drop a comment to let me know what you think :)


	16. Boxes in the Attic

It was a bit after 9:00 in the morning by the time Tissaia pushed her way back to the cottage. When she came through the front door both Fringilla and Aadesh simultaneously emerged into the foyer, from the kitchen and living room, respectively. They peered at her with tilted heads and expectant expressions, and she found herself instantly exhausted by it, wanting to simply slip upstairs without a word to either of them. However, she dutifully followed Fringilla into the kitchen with Vilgefortz trailing after them. The three of them drank coffee that the medical examiner had been in the middle of preparing and leaned against the countertop while Tissaia explained the last five or so hours.

Sabrina had stayed at Istredd’s beside as long as she could, only joining Tissaia out in the waiting room when a nurse asked her to step out for her to check his vitals or draw blood then she would hurriedly return when the nurse finished. Tissaia sat diligently throughout, splitting her time between sending some messages to Aadesh, meager with information but enough to keep him placated, and eventually getting restless then going to roam around the halls. The restlessness was not impatience, it was a diversion from staring at her phone with her text thread for Yennefer open on her phone. There were only a few brief texts, just their quick conversation of the other woman asking if she could come to her apartment in 20 minutes and herself confirming. Then there was only one more that said, _This is Yennefer Vengerberg_ , from when they had initially exchanged phone numbers.

Staring at the words, Tissaia could practically hear Yennefer saying them in that low voice, verging on an amused purr, from the first morning they spent together, and she wished to be back there before things had somehow become even more complicated. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised with potential messages.

 **What are you doing now?** She held her thumb down on the backspace key.

 **Malcolm is going to be fine.** Backspace, she didn’t even know if Yennefer had heard the news.

 **Hey...** Backspace.

**I’m thinking of you. I want to see you.**

Tissaia would click the button on the side of her phone to close the screen then stand up to try and elude her feelings. The detective did not divulge these inner, cyclic thoughts to her friends, however. She skipped to when a uniformed officer arrived with orders to take up a post outside Istredd’s hospital room; to keep others out or him in he didn’t specify. He also came with instructions that Istredd was not to have any visitors as he was still an inmate, telling Sabrina that she had to leave. The pregnant woman started to get upset again, but Tissaia and mostly Malcolm convinced her that it would be best if she went home to rest. After a tear-filled goodbye that had Tissaia turning away from the couple once again, she escorted Sabrina back to her accommodations where she coerced her into having a small breakfast.

Sabrina begrudgingly ate the eggs and toast Tissaia prepared then insisted she would be fine on her own for a while, that she just wanted to lie down and sleep. With the promise to stop by later to check on her, the detective left her alone, which brought her back to the present where Vilgefortz and Fringilla then had their own update for Tissaia.

“My boss called. A lot of the staff are out with the flu apparently. I think it was Marla’s birthday and everyone went too hard during karaoke...” The doctor said with an eyeroll, “Anyways, he needs me to come in to help cover shifts.”

“I was going to catch a ride back with her to Thanedd, unless you were thinking of heading home today too?” Her partner asked with a touch of hope that she may finally see reason and return with him.

She shook her head no, parroting her sentiment that she conveyed before, “I can’t leave yet.”

“Tissaia-“ He began but she held up her hand to stop him.

“Sabrina’s parents are coming back tomorrow night from being abroad. I just want to make sure she has someone until they get here. There won’t be any more snooping.” She promised her partner, not sure if she meant it or not.

“If that’s the case, I can stick around until-“

Tissaia shook her head again, “No, that’s okay. You’ve a few more days off. She should go spend some time with Margot.”

“Okay, if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” She gave him a pressed smile that appeared to be convincing enough. Within the hour, her friends were ready to depart. Vilgefortz’s bed had been folded back into a couch, the couch somehow looking skewed like it was disgruntled at having been jostled about, and Fringilla cleared out of her parent’s room, leaving it like no one had slept in there for five years still. The three of them stood in the front hall making a long goodbye; Aadesh and Fringilla seeming to stall their departure as if reluctant to leave Tissaia on her own. But eventually they ran out of thing to say so they scooped up their patiently waiting overnight bags and left to start their drive home as Tissaia waved them off.

Leaning against the door, Tissaia sighed and glanced around at her surroundings as quiet crept into the home, seeming to mock her. It was harder to watch her friends leave than she thought it would be. Without her companions or Sabrina or Yennefer, Tissaia felt truly alone, like a person lost at sea staring into the blue void that was both peaceful and terrifying. The detective inspector shoved off the door, chiding herself to shake off those morose thoughts as she went to tidy up the kitchen. After the few dishes had been dealt with, she wandered around the rest of the downstairs for lack of anything better to do, fingers ghosting over the relics of her childhood. Then Tissaia made her way upstairs. The strange hesitance she’d felt in moving through her old home had ebbed and familiarity had settled in fully as she recognized the creak of each step and the stubborn crack along the top of the wall that would reappear no matter how many times it had been plastered over. Keeping her eyeline elevated, Tissaia looked toward the end of the hall, considering at the cord dangling from the ceiling that would open the hatch to the attic.

She glanced at her phone and saw no new notifications. Sabrina was most likely still asleep and Yennefer, well, she was apparently not ready to talk yet, may never be ready to talk. The thought tugged at her heartstrings. Tissaia sighed again. She found herself with some time on her hands and in need of a distraction. The detective figured she might as well sort through the attic since it was the supposed intent of the trip. Moving to the end of the hallway, she pulled the cord and the small door fell open, a ladder slowly, reluctantly unfolding on rusty hinges. She gave the pale wood a little shake to test its sturdiness and satisfied Tissaia ascended to the upper most level of the house.

The air was cooler in the attic and smelled of smoky cedar. A round port window let in gray morning light, only really illuminating one patch of boxes and the dust motes that floated above them. Tissaia managed to find a string that was attached to a single lightbulb in the center of the room. When she tugged on it, the bulb miraculously popped on though just barely, the filaments not so much giving off light but merely burning an iridescent orange. As Tissaia surveyed the clutter, it was hard to differentiate between all of the browns- brown walls, brown boxes, brown shelves, even things of different color like the coats hanging on a rack and the vintage dollhouse seemed to have some brown steeped into them. She picked the cardboard box closest to her and pried it open to get started.

The first box had her grandmother’s fine china in it. The second box had sweaters that all felt vaguely damp. In the next Tissaia found picture albums that she leafed through; the photographs of familiar faces over-exposed from the camera flash drawing a small smile on her lips at the memories. Eventually she set them aside to take with her and found a box labelled ‘Tissaia Bedroom’ in her father’s angular handwriting. She lowered herself next to the box and began pulling out items and arranging them around herself feeling rather ceremonious about it. Inside there was Bun, the corduroy rabbit she had since she was a baby, then a lava lamp with lumpy, purplish wax, then a 2nd place trophy from debate team in her Year 12, and more things from her youth half remembered, and half forgotten. Finally near the of sorting the memorabilia, at the bottom of the box lay a small mahogany chest. She took it out and placed it in her lap, recognizing it as her old jewelry box.

The wooden surface was scuffed and some of the gold leaf decorating the top had chipped away, but Tissaia had never been really sentimental about jewelry. The only piece she cared about was the small medallion necklace that she usually wore. It was a family heirloom that was passed along from mother to daughter, originating from her great-great grandmother who had received the necklace to signify her position as the headmistress of a boarding school for girls. Still she cracked open the lid to see if there was anything worth salvaging. Tissaia cringed good-naturedly at the neon jelly band and chunky charm bracelets that were born of the 80’s, remembering the questionable fashion choices that were made with faint embarrassment and fondness. However amongst the cheap, dated jewelry there was a sleek looking red velvet box that made her freeze. Tentatively, she reached for it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she opened the box and looked at the delicate necklace that rested within. Fine golden links made up the chain that connected to the wings of a silhouetted owl in flight. The flat gold of the pendant gleamed even in the dim lighting of the attic, the same it had when she’d presented it to Philippa.

_It was Philippa’s 13 th birthday, and the girls were having a special sleepover, special not only for her birthday but because it was a Wednesday and a school night. Philippa had lamented to and cajoled her parents enough that they finally gave in and agreed to allow her to have one friend over to celebrate her becoming a teenager. Tissaia had been the obvious choice and with some desperate pleading to her parents they had relented as well._

_Tissaia had gone home with Philippa right after school and after hastily finishing their homework, as it was one of the agreed upon conditions, the girls had immediately begun all of the classic sleepover activities. They danced to music videos on MTV, their voices warbling along with Material Girl and Don’t Stop Believin’ while 3-year-old Sabrina giggled at them from her seat on the couch. They painted each other’s nails, so no nail color was the same as the next while complaining about the excessive math homework from Mr. Peters and theorizing about their classmates’ possible crushes on each other. Philippa’s parents ordered pizza for them that they ate lying in front of the television while the movie Paul rented on his way home from work played, though they were more invested in taking bites of the pizza and pulling it away from their faces to see who could stretch the cheese the farthest._

_For the big finale everyone gathered around the kitchen table to sing a soft rendition of Happy Birthday over a cake that Philippa’s mom made. She blew out the thirteen candles with pleased-pink cheeks and a big grin. After the cake, Philippa opened a few presents from her parents then the girls were told they needed to get ready for bed. They did as they were told, though laughing and playfully pushing each other at the sink while they brushed their teeth until a stern voice called for them to settle down. The two friends did their best to stifle their giggles before scurrying into Philippa’s bedroom. Mrs. Glevissig peeked into the room and told them not to stay up too late and there would be no excuses tomorrow morning for missing school though her warnings were tempered by an indulgent smile. They chorused their promise to go to sleep soon and said goodnight._

_After the door shut, Philippa flopped down onto her bed, “Parents are such a drag.”_

_“Yeah, but your mom makes the best chocolate cake.” Tissaia said rummaging through her backpack._

_“So true.” Philippa acquiesced, “And she did let me have this awesome sleepover. I’m glad you were able to come over, this has been the best birthday ever.”_

_She gave Tissaia a winsome smile that for some reason made her duck her head and tuck her hair behind her ears. Suppressing the bubbling flustered feeling, Tissaia remembered that she had been looking through her bag for something specific. Her fingers closed around hard edges and smooth paper. “Well it’s not over quite yet. I got you something.”_

_“Really?” Her best friend jumped up from her lounging position as Tissaia came forward, presenting the little square box wrapped in paper printed with colorful balloons and a red ribbon tied into a bow around it. Tissaia had spent yesterday evening wrapping it herself even though her mom could have done it much quicker, but she had used her own saved allowance, picked out the gift herself and wanted to be the one to wrap is as well. Philippa accepted the gift excitedly, “What is it?”_

_“Just open it, you dolt.” Tissaia said with a teasing grin. Philippa untied the ribbon and tore the paper eagerly as Tissaia shuffled next to her, feeling unduly nervous. As she opened the lid, Philippa paused, her eyes glazing over with an awed emotion._

_Her fingers stroked along the scalloped edges of the elegantly spread feather, “It’s- it’s really beautiful, Tiss.”_

_“You like it?” Tissaia stuttered a bit as she asked the question. Philippa nodded, seemingly still mesmerized by the necklace. Ever since she was small, Philippa had a fascination with owls stemming from her grandma who collected anything revolving around the bird. It had been their thing together, but she had passed away last year, and this would be her first birthday without receiving an owl themed gift and more significantly without her grandmother. Tissaia asked her mother to drive them to the city so she could scour the mall, dragging her mother from store to store to find the perfect present. Her mom had suggested jumpers, a friendship bracelet kit, and other acceptable trinkets but Tissaia had turned her nose up at all of it. Until finally when her dear, bedraggled mother was just about at her wit’s end, Tissaia had spotted the necklace in the window of the jewelry shop and she knew she’d found **the** gift._

_“Can you put it on me?” Philippa asked already pushing the box back in her hands and turning around. Tissaia watched as her friend gathered up her thick hair and held it up, exposing her neck. With slightly trembling fingers, she managed to get the necklace clasped._

_She whirled back around, “How does it look?”_

_“It looks great.” Tissaia confirmed for her as her friend went and looked at her new jewelry in the mirror hanging on the back of her door. Without a word, Philippa then came up and unexpectedly wrapped Tissaia up into a tight hug. It warmed her and as Philippa pulled away she pressed a timid, dry kiss onto her cheek. Tissaia could feel her cheeks flush with heat that she could not quite grasp._

_“It’s really brilliant, Tissaia.” Philippa said, touching the pendant that rest against her chest. “Thank you, I’m never going to take it off.”_

As Philippa had proclaimed she was rarely without the necklace over the next few years. When Tissaia noticed her wearing it, her heart would pluck with pride. Then during the last summer they spent together, it was not very noticeable, but she started to wear it less. A couple days before Philippa disappeared she had taken the necklace off at Tissaia’s house before they went to the pool, saying she didn’t want to get a strange tan line. She never had a chance to retrieve the necklace. Heartbroken, unable to look at the reminder, Tissaia placed it in her jewelry box and pushed it out of her mind.

A single, hot tear slid down her face as the memories filled up the cramped space around her. Her relationship with Philippa was complicated, best friend-first love-greatest heartbreak complicated. She had given Tissaia her most cherished moments from childhood, but she had also given her worst and there would be no resolution. Tissaia could not say they would have grown up, gone to the same university, fallen in love and stayed together the way she had wished so ardently back then. If Philippa hadn’t vanished, they could still have never spoken to each other after their fight. And if they had reconciled, they could have grown apart, gone to separate schools, Tissaia could have fallen in love with an English major, Philippa could have gotten a boyfriend and ended up pregnant young like her mom, changing nappies and waiting for her husband to come back from the farm the way she had dreaded or she could have traveled the world studying birds.

So many roads untraveled, but Tissaia had to accept their story ended cruelly, abruptly and she could not spend the rest of her life wondering what might have been, not when there was so much potential left for her. Yennefer, the name floated up in her psyche. She was at an impasse with the younger woman. Tissaia could leave things as they were between them, one passionate night and a fallout, or she could try and make something of whatever brewed between them. Closing the little box, Tissaia knew she had to try talk to Yennefer. She would not go on regretting leaving things unsaid. She took her phone out of her back pocket to message her but changed her mind. She stood, abandoning all the objects still laid out around her, and made her way back down the ladder; she would not give Yennefer the chance to ignore or deny her as she suspected the stubborn woman may do over text. Tissaia quickly got herself ready to leave the cottage with the cozy flat above Merigold’s Flowers and Botany her intended destination.

-

A late morning fog covered the hills, spilling onto some of the road as Tissaia drove into town, turning the landscape into a ghostly version of itself. She maneuvered her car carefully through the mist while she tried to formulate what she would say to Yennefer, but her nerves made her mind as clouded as the countryside surrounding her. Pulling into a parking spot across the street, Tissaia sat for a few minutes and looked at the inviting storefront as if she might catch sight of the dark-haired woman. Tissaia was so engrossed in her own thoughts she nearly missed that she was not the only person loitering outside the flower shop.

A young woman, blonde in her late-teens maybe early-twenties, stood near the corner of the building and stared up at the three windows on the second floor; though she wouldn’t have been able to see through them at the angle she was at and besides that the windows viewed into the empty hallway. Tissaia now curiously watched the stranger as she would take a few halting steps toward the entrance then back away uncertainly to resume her lookout post, anxiously chewing on her thumb. Tissaia observed the girl, wondering what she was doing. Whatever it was, her detective’s intuition was piqued. Finally she climbed out of her car and crossed the street towards the blonde. She called out to her, “Excuse me.”

Startled, the woman whipped her head around to find Tissaia approaching her. Her eyes widened with alarm and she stumbled back, turning and trying to flee. However, the detective inspector jogged after her, “Hold on, wait.”

When the other woman kept walking away briskly, Tissaia put more authority in her voice, “Stop, I’m with the police.”

The girl stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her shoulders up and tense, then slowly turned around to face her, “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Alright,” Tissaia adopted a softer tone again, “What are you doing out here?”

“I was- I was just…” She spluttered before trailing off. Her head tilted to the side as she regarded Tissaia then said with realization, “You were on the news with Sabrina Istredd.”

“Yes, I’m DI DeVries.” Tissaia nodded and added somewhat erroneously, “I’ve been assisting with the investigation into the missing girls. What’s your name?”

“Claire. Claire Addams.”

“Hello, Claire. What are you doing outside the flower shop?” The inspector asked kindly.

Her eyes flit back and forth as if looking for an escape as she answered timidly, “I was told Detective Vengerberg lived above it.”

“Why are you looking for DS Vengerberg?” Tissaia attempted to temper her surprise though her eyebrows raised inquisitively on their own accord.

“I- I have information about Malcolm Istredd that would be relevant to the investigations.” Clair shifted from foot to foot and tugged her coat sleeves over her hands.

Tissaia leaned forward intently, “What sort of information?”

When the young woman pulled away uncomfortably, the detective toned it down and went on reassuringly, placing a hand on her upper arm to comfort and keep her in place, “I only want to help. Whatever evidence you have, I’ll take you to DS Vengerberg.”

There was a heavy pause before Claire released a deep sigh and let out what had been burdening her, “Malcolm did not take those girls. There is no way he took Poppy Toms. It’s impossible because I was with him that night.”

“You were with Istredd the night of Poppy’s disappearance?” Her shocked question was met with a small, firm nod. “What were you doing with him? Why didn’t you come forward sooner?”

The questions tumbled out of her mouth before she could restrain herself. However, Claire seemed unphased by the rapid-fire interrogation as her reluctance to talk evaporated entirely, the desire to confess outweighing anything that had kept her silent until this point, “For the record, I’m 19, I’m not underage like the girls that went missing. I decided to take a gap year before going to university. I started spending a lot of time at the library to figure out what I wanted to study, that’s how I met Malcolm. He would recommend books, then we’d discuss them and we… started spending time together.”

“Spending time together?” Tissaia looked for clarification.

“It wasn’t a love affair, more an academic affair.” Claire shook her head though she blushed then, and began to ramble slightly, “I mean, there were some meaningful looks. At least, I think there were... I think maybe it was an escape from the pressures of life, his job, his wife, with the baby coming you know. We would talk about books or mythology or archaeology, anything really. It was nice.”

“Where did you spend time together?”

“Mostly in the library after hours. I’d stay and chat while he locked up.” She added, “A couple times we sat in his car.”

“What about the night Poppy went missing?” The detective enquired.

“In his car. I had taken the bus to Cintra for the day and he had offered to pick me up from the bus stop. I _saw_ Poppy get out of his car that night and I got in.”

The admission stunned Tissaia, like a bolt of lightning shooting through her system. If what Claire said was true, then Istredd would have an ironclad alibi. Her thoughts raced now as did her heart, but she kept her cool, moving on to the next question, “How long were you with him?”

“A little over an hour. He parked a couple blocks away from my house and we started talking like normal, then suddenly he said we couldn’t see each other like this anymore. I was upset, but I knew it was for the best. I.. don’t think we did anything wrong, but what we were doing also wasn’t right.”

Her explanation unfolded faster than Tissaia could comprehend them. “So why didn’t you originally come forward?”

“I didn’t think it would be a good idea.” Claire dragged her fingers through her hair. “I thought if I came forward they would think I was a potential victim that got lucky he was captured before he could get me. But I knew, he was innocent so I thought it would be better for the police to clear him without me. I didn’t think he would get charged. I’m not like those girls, you have to believe me.”

Tear pricked the young woman’s eyes as she spoke beseechingly to Tissaia. The inspector stared carefully at her and picked apart her statements in her mind. It was true, Claire was not like Abigail or Poppy with their dark hair and dark eyes. With her honey blonde hair and full lips she looked more like Sabrina with a tan than anything. And it would have only taken the bus about 20, maybe 30, minutes to make the loop to come back and pick-up Poppy on its way out of town. They knew Poppy had never made it on the bus and Malcolm would have been with Claire, so it was like she said- it was impossible for Istredd to have kidnapped Poppy. Tissaia said definitively, “I believe you.”

“So you’ll help me speak to Detective Vengerberg?” Relief leaked out in her tone.

“Yes, come on. Let’s get this sorted.”

The two of them now walked into the flower shop, perhaps emboldening each other a little now that they each had an ally. As soon as they entered Triss emerged from behind the beaded curtain with a bright smile that faltered ever so slightly at the sight of them, “Oh, Tissaia, what are you doing here?”

The botanist looked uncomfortable at her sudden appearance, and Tissaia got the impression that Yennefer may have said something to her about their argument and had been told she was unwelcome here. Still she forged ahead, “Triss, this is my new friend Claire. We need to speak with DS Vengerberg.”

Triss glanced up toward the flat above them and bit her lip as she waffled for a minute. Tissaia spoke again more imploringly, “Please, Triss, it’s important. Is Yennefer here?”

“Yes,” she conceded rather easily. “She just came back from the White Wolf.”

“Would you mind if Claire sat down here with you for a minute?” Tissaia heard the girl make a noise of protest next to her and she turned to address her, “I need to speak with DS Vengerberg alone for a moment. I’ll come right back for you.”

Triss stepped in to help, giving Tissaia a knowing look that made her wonder exactly how much Yennefer had divulged, “Come on, Claire. I’ll get you a cup of tea while we wait.”

After an encouraging nod from Tissaia, reluctantly the blonde allowed herself to be led by the kindly shopkeeper to the back of the store. The detective followed but did not join them as they diverted to the desk alcove, instead she headed up the stairs. Her nerves had faded mostly and now she was just anxious to fill Yennefer in on the recent development. She had no idea what they would do after but Tissaia felt confident they would figure it out together. Still, she gingerly knocked on the second door in the corridor.

Tissaia waited but she heard nothing from the other side. Trying again, she rapped harder against the wood causing the door to crack open a little bit. She pulled back in surprise, but still Yennefer did not appear, it seemed like the door had not been latched properly. DI DeVries browed furrowed as she called out, “Yennefer?”

Using her palm she gently pushed the door and it swung open the rest of the way to reveal an empty apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys seen those sea shanty video on the internet? Those are pretty nifty, huh.
> 
> Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns? No spoilers :)


	17. Where is Yennefer?

“Yennefer?” Tissaia called out louder, taking a cautious step into the apartment, but the other woman did not come out to greet her with a sharp scowl and a sharper tongue. Her stomach lurched; something felt wrong. Gazing around the room, to an untrained eye nothing looked significantly out of place, but not to Tissaia. From the moment the unlatched door fell open, she homed in on discrepancies from her previous visits to the flat.

The hook next to the door where her keys should have been hung was vacant but upon further inspection, Tissaia discovered them lying on the ground underneath the hook, like Yennefer had missed or been interrupted when she went to hang them up. One of the chairs at the kitchen table looked askew, like it had been knocked out of place, unlike its partner tidily tucked against the table. But the most perturbing detail was the window above the kitchen sink. The glass sat open like it always had when Tissaia had seen it but now it seemed open farther than usual; the widened gap and pale curtains gently billowing with the breeze seemed sinister and taunting. She moved into the room to investigate the window further, the slow thunk of her boots against the hardwood floor denoting her steady path while she tried not to disturb anything. As she reached the sink, there was a sudden burst of noise coming from the bedroom area. Tissaia whipped her head around in time to see Anica the cat dart out from underneath the bed, mewling at her with an edge of desperation.

The tabby thread herself through Tissaia’s legs, still chirping and meowing plaintively at her. Her sounds felt frantic, like she had been spooked, or maybe Tissaia was projecting her own fears brewing in her gut. She reached down to comfortingly pat the cat between her ears but as soon as she did the cat dipped out of her range and shook her head as if offended by the touch. Anica sprang up onto the counter and slunk her way to the windowsill with little huffs. She paused at the opening, sniffing along edge before she hopped out and disappeared down the fire escape into the thick fog that obscured the hills behind the shops. The detective watched her go; she felt an irrational jolt in her chest to follow the animal as if she were the fabled Cheshire Cat that could lead her to Yennefer. But this was the real world, not a tale from a storybook and Anica would more likely lead her to the dumpster behind the butcher shop. Instead, she refocused her attention to where the cat had just leapt from.

Like the rest of the apartment, nothing would seem out of the ordinary except to her detective’s eye. Normal outdoor grime coated the sill, wind and rain bringing spotty, gray dust to settle upon it, but now it looked disturbed. The weather stripping had a section wiped clean, like something had been dragged across it. Tissaia leaned over the sink for a better look and saw on the outside ledge there was a streak of dirt unlike the rest of the thin layer on everything else. It was more clay-like, a reddish brown, and appeared freshly smeared, the mud having not dried yet. Her head swam with the implication, heart pounding in her chest so she felt it reverberating in her collarbones. She withdrew, tracing her steps back out of the flat.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Tissaia walked toward the stairs but stopped short, turning around and pacing back to the door she had left wide open. She repeated the course a few more times, before ceasing, pulling out her cell phone and scrolling to find Yennefer’s contact information. She thumbed the call button next to her name and waited. But the phone didn’t ring, instead going straight to voicemail. She tried one more time in vain however got the same automated message telling her receiver was unavailable at this time. The detective rubbed her hand across her forehead then dropped it over her eyes as her face crumpled with emotion, her mouth filling with coppery warmth the way it did when one tried to hold off tears. A scene playing out in her mind as to what may have happened in the apartment to explain Yennefer’s absence.

She envisioned Yennefer returning from breakfast at the pub, jogging up the steps to her home with a customary smile and wave to Triss. It could have been any other moment, on another other day as the woman unlocked her door and stepped through the threshold. She would be distracted and unthinking as her muscle memory unconsciously drove her forward until something ripped her out of the routine; an intruder had been lying in wait. As soon as Yennefer entered, before she could register that the window had been pried open further or that someone loomed in the corner, they would attack her with a crack across the skull or a rag soaked in chloroform over her mouth, whatever prevented her from crying out. Her keys would clatter to the ground as arms wrapped around Yennefer’s long form, catching the now limp, conscious woman and dragging her across the floor to pull her out of the window. Then her being hoisted up onto the shoulders of this malicious stranger in a fireman’s carry to descend the fire escape and be swallowed up by the mist.

One thought bled into the next as Tissaia stood immobilized in the hall. The detective knew in her gut something bad had happened here and her first instinct was to call for reinforcements. She should call the police department and they needed to get team on scene to gather forensic evidence. However, the reality of the situation was more complicated than that. The state of the apartment did not have a smoking gun or pool of blood to indicate anything truly life-threatening had occurred. Where Tissaia saw a crime scene, it could be written off as nothing just as easily. That in consideration with the fact that DS Vengerberg was an adult, free to come and go as she pleased, and had a recent fall out at work, more time would need to pass before officials would take her absence seriously. She could hear the excuses being made to not start an investigation. More than her worry the local police wouldn’t take any action, Tissaia did not know who she could trust.

Yennefer had been beyond suspicious of DCI Stregobor, actually accusing him of being involved in fabricating the evidence against Istredd. Tissaia felt reluctant to even think it, but she had to consider that it was a possibility that he could be involved in this. The terrible image of Yennefer being whisked away by a masked stranger morphing into someone she knew, Stregobor’s wizened, cruel face next Yennefer’s slack, unconscious one as he hefted her across the room. And what would she do with Claire? Would it be safe for her to take her to the station? Would her claims simply be dismissed or worse? She felt caught in a vortex of questions and uncertainty over what she should do next. Horrid, molten fear filling her and sinking her down further as it felt like history was repeating itself and she was helpless to stop it, like she possessed the kiss of death that condemned people to vanish off the face of the earth.

_No_ , the word appeared solidly in the middle of her thoughts, putting a stop to all the noise in her head. Tissaia was not a helpless 15-year-old girl anymore shattered over her missing friend and her inability to do anything about it. She was a detective inspector with years of knowledge and skill under her belt and she could work this case. She had to work this case.

Straightening her spine, Tissaia swiped her hand down her face as if trying to erase the emotion from it. She took deep breaths until the trembling feeling inside her subsided and the cool, reserved inspector resurfaced then took her first determined step forward to go speak with Triss. As she went down the stairs, Triss and Claire came into view. Claire sat at the desk awkwardly hunched in the chair and sipping from a steaming mug while Triss leaned against the desk and chatted merrily at her. Tissaia didn’t have time to overhear their conversation before Triss noticed her coming down. She grinned broadly at the sight of her, and announced, “Here they are.”

Then she paused, looking in the empty space around Tissaia, “Where is Yennefer?”

“She…” Tissaia faltered for a moment. “She wasn’t up there.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” Triss blinked at her.

“Yennefer isn’t in her apartment.” The detective said maintaining a calm demeanor. “Did you see her go back out?”

“No, she is definitely there.” The shopkeeper said instantly then moved toward the stairs as if she were going to check for herself. Tissaia stopped her, grabbing onto the sleeve of her cardigan before she could pass by her.

“Wait, you can’t go up there.” The crime scene, if it ever came to that, needed to be preserved.

Triss stared at her, brow wrinkled in confusion but her eyes starting to glitter with worry picking up on the somberness of Tissaia’s expression. She asked again more adamantly, “Where is Yennefer?”

“I don’t know.” Tissaia had to admit. Her eyes glanced over to Claire who watched the two of them with growing fear on her face. She addressed the blonde, “Claire, I’ve got to speak with Triss for a moment. Something has come up; can you stay here with Triss until I can come back for you?”

The younger woman nodded slowly and Tissaia tried to give her a reassuring smile as she directed Triss to step through the beaded curtain for the bit of privacy it afforded. The botanist crossed her arms over her torso in a guarded stance, her voice low and urgent, “What is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Tissaia was forced to say again. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, alright?”

After Triss gave her unsteady consent, Tissaia proceeded hurriedly, “About what time did Yennefer get back here?”

“About an hour ago now?” Triss consulted the watch on her wrist but didn’t sound entirely sure.

“And you said she was coming from The White Wolf?”

“That’s right.”

“How was her mood when she came back? Was she behaving abnormally?” Tissaia asked.

Triss scrunched her face in concentration, “She seemed fine. A bit in a rush maybe, we didn’t really talk before she went upstairs.”

“Okay, and did you hear anything unusual from the flat? Right when she would have gotten in?” She pressed, making Triss crinkle her eyebrows even further as she searched her memory for an answer.

“I- I don’t think so… There may have been a thump, but it- it wasn’t alarming. I thought it was just the cat. I don’t- Oh god, I’m not being much help.” She ended fretfully; her hand fluttered to her lips and she looked away distraught.

Tissaia placed a reassuring hand on her arm, “No, you’re doing fine. We don’t know anything yet. Everything could be okay. We have to stay calm.”

“Yes, okay.” Triss exhaled with a nod but she sounded shaky still.

“You’re sure Yennefer couldn’t have left without you noticing?” She went on.

“No,” Triss said firmly. “I’ve been at my desk the whole time. I would have seen her leave.”

“Do you know if she’s ever gone out down the fire escape to leave?”

She shook her head, “I’ve never known her to. I don’t see why she would now.”

“Alright,” Tissaia hesitated briefly to lick her dry lips before going on to ask, “Would Yennefer have taken off without letting you know? Does she ever leave unexpectedly to get away for a while?”

“There might have been a time… but no, not anymore. She acted like she didn’t need anybody, but Yennefer made a family here despite herself. She wouldn’t just leave without saying anything to me or Geralt or someone.” The other woman insisted, as if Tissaia might not believe her. Then she continued with a tentative, scared question, “Do you think we should call the police?”

“Not yet.” Tissaia struggled to explain, not wanting to say too much and induce panic in the empathetic woman. “There isn’t enough to go on right now. But I’ll go to The White Wolf to see Geralt. Maybe she said something to him about where she might be… I’m going to find her.”

She stated the last sentence with a quiet confidence that was perhaps not warranted. It seemed to relax Triss somewhat though, her shoulder fractionally dropping some of their tension. “What can I do?”

“Try calling and texting Yennefer. I tried earlier but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe you’ll have better luck than me.” Then she added, “Will you let me know if you hear from her?”

“Of course.” The women quickly traded phone numbers and Tissaia promised she would let Triss know if she learned anything as well. Then she started to the exit, anxious to get out and trace Yennefer’s movements. As she reached the front door, she turned to try and offer Triss some imparting comfort. But words abandoned her as she shared a look with the other woman, her arms rewrapping around her middle and soft brown eyes pleading for Tissaia to fix the horrible feeling of not knowing. Nothing she said could do that though; finally the detective said in a tone wavering between authoritative and reassuring, “Stay here. Look after Claire. And neither of you go to the police without me.”

With a dip of her head, DI DeVries stepped out the door, her boots clicking with a sharp, determined thwack against the pavement as she pushed into the damp, cold afternoon.

-

Tissaia avoided obsessing on the drive over to The White Wolf by allowing herself to become excessively aggravated at any slow drivers or red lights she encountered. Any delay no matter how momentary made a hot, swarming feeling throb at the back of her head. She suppressed a growl and glowered at the stop light she sat at now behind a maroon minivan. Before the detective had set off, she had done a cursory check around the outside of the shop for any more clues though she had come up empty. The alley way next to the shop was too littered with evidence of human activity that it would be impossible to tell if there were something pertinent. Chunky gravel comprised the small back lot behind the store that lead to the greenhouse, so any footprints disappeared with the rough texture. She hadn’t seen any CCTV cameras either, but she planned text Triss to ask if she knew of any to be sure when she was finished with talking to Geralt.

By the time Tissaia arrived at the pub, she wasted no time by pulling up to the curb right out front even thought it was marked as a fire lane. She strode with all her urgency, feeling ready to shout, demanding answers, but she deflated a little upon finding the atmosphere subdued. The breakfast rush was long gone, and any rowdy lunch time crowd had yet to start coming in. The place was practically empty save for a couple old timers in their flat caps chewing the fat over mugs of black coffee in the corner. The room was unnervingly quiet with their indistinct conversation and a staticky radio gently droning a news report from somewhere behind the bar. Tissaia found Geralt standing at the counter with a towel over his broad shoulder and an eyebrow raised at her. Realizing she had stalled by the entrance, she took a deep gathering breath and approached him.

“Tissaia, what can I do for you?” He greeted her politely.

“Was Yennefer in here earlier?” Tissaia asked immediately.

The bartender grunted an affirmative sound and said, “She was.”

“Do you remember when she left?”

“That was probably nearly two hours ago.” Geralt rubbed at his stubble as he thought back.

“Did Yennefer say anything about where she was going when she left?” The detective tired to ask her questions coolly but with this Geralt furrowed his brow, disquiet creasing his face.

“No, she didn’t. What’s going on?”

Tissaia regarded him for a few seconds, trying to decide exactly how much information to tell him. She did not want to lie but didn’t want to get too in depth with her suspicions. She said evenly, “Yennefer wasn’t at her flat. I’m just trying to track her down.”

“But you think something is wrong.” The man pressed.

“We can’t think about that yet.” Tissaia shook her head and continued fixedly. “Just can you tell me any about what you two talked about? How was she behaving?”

Geralt clench his jaw and glared, his eyes practically flashing yellow at her. Finally though he bit out in frustrated resignation, “She was being stubborn. Yen came to talk to me about my witness statement.”

“Yennefer was sus-“

“Suspended.” He completed the word with her then went on with rueful fondness, “I told you, Stregobor hasn’t proven capable of controlling of her yet.”

Tissaia felt a similar fondness spread through her chest despite herself; she wished there were time to contemplate the warm, full feeling. Instead she said, “What did you tell her about your statement?”

“I just walked through it with her again.” He shrugged.

“Humor me, tell me exactly what you told her, especially if there was anything new you remembered.” If it had been important to Yennefer then maybe it would lead her to the missing woman. Geralt gave her a pursed expression, like he didn’t see the relevance, but he preceded to tell her anyways.

“It was Saturday, the place was a mad house because it had stopped raining for the moment. Istredd had come in for a pint, he does sometimes after closing up the library. He had his beer, I talked with him a bit, but like I said, we were busy. I told her nothing seemed out of the ordinary with him, maybe a little sullen. He paid and headed out without me seeing him go. The next I saw him he and Cahir Emreis were having a smoke outside.” He nodded to the front window where there was a clear view outside to the sidewalk with a standing ashtray under an awning for people to congregate around, “Then when I next looked, it was just Cahir smoking and he left as well.”

Something in Geralt’s narrative made Tissaia freeze like she’d caught sight of something moving out of the corner of her eye when she thought she was alone. Her body reacting with a tightening of her throat and a thump in her chest before she really knew what was there. She had been imagining the scene as the man spoke- the packed bar all jostling bodies and hearty laughter, Istredd sat at the bar with a pint, worrying over the conversation he knew he had to have with Claire, then him out underneath orange streetlights having a neighborly conversation with Cahir and blue smoke blowing from their lips. Except that was not right.

When the detectives had run into the preacher’s son out at the bus stop the other day, she distinctly remembered that Cahir claimed he hadn’t been smoking, calling the habit horrible and disgusting. It would be a strange, unimportant thing for him to lie about, and Tissaia did not think he had lied as she combed through her memory. Neither the man or his car had smelled of cigarettes and she remembered his hands resting on the steering wheel, his nails clean and trim without any nicotine stains. It was a small thing, a practically unnoticeable thing but it agitated her, like a pebble kicking around in your shoe. “What makes you say Mr. Emreis was smoking?”

Geralt paused then, his head tilting curiously, “Yen asked me the same thing.”

“And?” She urged him on.

“He was still standing there after Istredd had left. Then I saw him bend down and stub out his cigarette before going. Why do you ask?” He enquired but Tissaia couldn’t answer him for a moment as the picture clicked into focus for her. Geralt had not witnessed Cahir depositing his cigarette butt and leaving for the first time. He had seen Cahir returning to the pub after hearing Istredd offer Poppy a ride out to the bus stop. He came back to pick out Istredd’s fag end from the ashtray that he then placed in the plastic sheet he’d wrapped around the body of Abigail Johnson. With jarring clarity Tissaia knew Cahir Emreis was the man responsible in the disappearances of the two girls.

“Tissaia.” Geralt said her name with an edge. Her eyes snapped to look at him, the hulking man looking strained, his patience wearing thin.

The inspector would not stop to placate him as she continued to try and piece together what happened. “Was Cahir in here earlier too? Would he have heard you and Yennefer talking?”

If Emreis overheard their conversation, if he thought Yennefer was onto him, it would have prompted him to go after the detective sergeant to silence her. Realization dawned on Geralt, “You think Cahir has something to do with the missing girls.”

Not something, everything, Tissaia wanted to correct however didn’t have the time to waste. “Was he here?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t serve him.” Geralt looked to the older men still lounging in the corner and called over to them, “Vesemir, was the Emreis boy in here this morning?”

One of the men perked up. He scratched his ear and with the slow, countryside slur he answered, “Aye, I saw him having his usual breakfast.”

Before Geralt could turn back to Tissaia, she was already asking urgently, “Do you know where Cahir lives?”

“He lives with his parents.”

She shook her head. He obviously wouldn’t be able to hold anyone hostage there. “Do you have any idea where he could have gone? Somewhere secluded where he would have privacy?”

“I barely know the guy. I could try calling Ren to see if she would-“ Geralt stopped abruptly, an idea forming in his eyes. “It could be the church.”

“Where could he-“

Geralt cut off her dubious question as he explained rapidly. “The church basement flooded around five, six months ago. I remember it was all anybody talked about for a couple weeks in here. They said there wouldn’t be money in the budget until next year to repair the damages, so I think they just sealed it off.”

Tissaia’s heart thudded like a runaway train and her stomach sunk with heavy dread. The thought sickened her that Poppy Toms could have been grabbed from the bus stop then taken no more than 100 meters away from her abduction point and remained unfound. The next day the girl would have been able to hear the parishioners above her but bound and gagged she would be unable to cry out for help, cruelly so close to rescue. Tissaia started taking a few steps backward her thoughts now focused on getting out to the church.

“I’m going out there. If I’m not back in-“

“I’m coming with you.” Geralt asserted, throwing down his towel and looking prepared to jump over the bar.

“No.” Tissaia could not take along a civilian, even one as capable and intimidating as Geralt. “It’s not safe. This is a job for the police.”

“Then you at least need to call for back up.” He insisted.

Tissaia resisted the urge to snarl. They did not have time for this. “We can’t. If they aren’t out there, Stregobor will use it as an excuse to dismiss the whole thing. I’ll go out there. If I’m not back in 30 minutes then call the police.”

“You have 20 minutes.” Geralt fixed her with a hard stare, then ordered with a touch of softness. “Be safe. Bring her home.”

Tissaia nodded, her throat too choked to say anything more as she turned on her heel and fled the pub. The detective threw herself into her car and revved the engine to life, pealing out onto the road and cutting off an oncoming car that blared its horn at her. Tissaia barely noticed as she pushed harder on the accelerator, pushing herself out to The First Church of St. Nilfgaard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The killer revealed! I think some of you have guessed it :)
> 
> But what fates befall our intrepid detectives?? Who knows! Hopefully me! 
> 
> As always, love to hear your thoughts and comments. Thanks for reading!


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